


Dreams

by Gia279



Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: AU, Cuties, M/M, adam parrish/ronan lynch - Freeform, definitely does not hook into blue lily, obviously, pynch - Freeform, ronan and adam, this is part of a weird series of one shots i've been doing i guess
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-05-29
Updated: 2015-05-20
Packaged: 2018-01-27 00:30:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 22,512
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1708307
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gia279/pseuds/Gia279
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Pynch fics I've been writing and probably one Glue fic if I decide to put it up here. I previously put these on Tumblr, Fanfic, and Deviantart. Just reposting them here for my own amusement.</p><p> </p><p>Ronan and Adam discover, explore, and explain. ;)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Dreams

_**Dreams/ Inspired in part by song Closer by Nine Inch Nails** _

 

**Adam Parrish**

There was something different about Monmouth tonight. Adam wasn’t sure what it was. It was possible that the reason it felt different because he wasn’t often at Monmouth in the middle of the night—midnight, to be exact. To be even more exact, 12:13 AM. His brain had jolted him from sleep a half hour earlier, shooting his body up and out of bed before he’d had time to understand what was so urgent. And he still didn’t, not really.

Some part of him had woken up, desperate and needing the walk, and so he’d walked. He had a car, thanks to Gansey’s sister. But he walked.

Now Monmouth loomed over him in the dark, sturdy but old, like a wizened and cranky old woman holding court over Henrietta. There weren’t any cars outside, which made sense. Gansey had mentioned he was going to see someone and would be back as soon as possible. That had seemed to piss Blue off. But she seemed pretty angry a lot lately—since her mother disappeared, fleeing after Glendower the way Gansey wanted to.

Ronan was probably at his own house, with his mother—since she was awake now, and he and his brothers could live at home again.

Noah would still be up there. Unless he was with Blue. But he’d never go into Blue’s house, so maybe that was wrong. If his friends weren’t around, did Noah bother to exist? Or did he just wait, wherever ghosts waited if they didn’t want to waste energy?

“I’m here,” Noah said from next to Adam, who jolted as if Noah had thrown something.

“Why do you _do_ that?” he demanded waspishly, more angry at himself than Noah.

He shrugged. “You were thinking about me. I was upstairs. But I’m going to Gansey.”

“Where is he?” Adam’s stomach jolted hard. “Is he alright?”

Noah shrugged again, fading from sight until only a faint chill was left.

Adam scowled. _Ghosts and dreams and Cabeswater and Blue, nothing around here is ever just, oh he just wants company, it’s just a tree, you had a nightmare, what’s dead is dead._ He felt bad about that last part, because it made him wonder if he was wishing Noah away.

Movement caught his eye. Something had moved past one of the windows. Adam’s eyes narrowed. Someone was in Monmouth. If Noah was messing with him, he didn’t find it very funny.

“Well? Did you let someone up there?” he demanded into the night, his voice surprisingly loud. He let out a frustrated huff and started toward the door, keeping quiet automatically. There were too many things ingrained from childhood about opening doors at night to swing it open, even with aggression tightening his gait.

It didn’t occur to him that his skulking could cause the intruder to become equally aggressive.

When he opened the door at the top of the stairs, something swung at him, but before he could register what it was, something silvery flashed in his vision, a voice muttered something in his head, and he snapped up his forearm in defense.

Knuckles slapped into his flesh with bruising force, nearly knocking him back down the stairs; he grabbed his assailant and dug in his fingers while the man growled something.

The voice triggered recognition in the far recesses of his brain, but whatever had flashed in Adam’s vision was still protecting him—he pulled the man forward, then shoved him off balance.

“-fucking _damn it,_ Parrish, it’s me, you shithead.”

The swearing got through. Adam blinked. “Ronan?”

“No _shit._ I _live_ here.”

The words _No you don’t_ started to bubble to Adam’s lips, but what he said was, “Your car.”

A muscle in Ronan’s jaw ticked. “I left it.”

Adam wanted to ask if he’d woken recently too, from a dream, but he didn’t know how to bring up dreams with Ronan—his dreams were not like Adam’s dreams, though Adam was beginning to suspect his own dreams were not normal anymore, either.

“Did you see Noah?” Adam asked instead.

Ronan shook his head, eyes narrowed dangerously.

Adam sighed. “Did you want to be alone? Then I’ll leave. I thought someone was in here that doesn’t live here.”

“Why were you here? Where’s your car?” The questions were shot out like bullets, hot and fast. And accusing.

“I left it,” Adam snapped, because he was annoyed. “I woke up—and I needed a walk. I came here, because I forgot Gansey was out of town.”

A strange look passed over Ronan’s face at that, but it was gone before Adam could decipher it. He assumed that it was something about Gansey.

“Anyway, I thought you weren’t here. Your mom.” Adam clamped his mouth shut. He wasn’t sure how to talk about parents. He wasn’t sure how he felt about the idea of parents, ones that are missed not like an addictive and harmful drug but like warmth and safety and a favorite song.

“I was at home,” Ronan said with deliberate slowness. “But I felt like Monmouth shouldn’t be empty.”

What he was implying was that they were bad friends for leaving Gansey in this big, rambling place by himself while he and Adam, people who had no right to someone like Gansey, people who had been lonely and knew what it felt like, people who owed him, were off on their own, like he didn’t matter.

And he was right. Gansey would never blame them—he couldn’t. He’d keep it to himself. He was trying to help, but he didn’t know how, because in his family, money solved things, and in life, it solved things, too, but it meant nothing if it wasn’t your own, which his family didn’t quite understand.

They were the family that gave money to the poor family struggling during the holidays, not realizing how painful it was to accept that that family, the father, the mother, couldn’t provide for their children. They would only see their own good deed.

Adam shook himself. “Gansey isn’t here,” he pointed out, his tone defensive.

Something about Ronan at that moment seemed feral, more feral than usual, with his bare feet and chest, eyes glittering with something like anger, the glimmer like a knife blade turned to the side to reflect the light. “I know.”

Adam’s heart pulsed hard in his chest. He didn’t know why he was scared. He was. The panic that coursed through him was akin to the way he felt when he knew, just knew his father was not going to be talked down from his rage, when he had that deliberate and hard look in his eye. That was when he went after Adam with a certain focus, the kind he only got through the bottom of a whiskey bottle. The kind that left Adam in a shocked daze, lying on the floor, blood dripping and body pulsing in pain.

“Well there’s no reason to be here, is there? If it’s empty,” Adam said, automatically trying to reason with Ronan, as if he’d been threatened. “So we can go home. We should come back when Gansey’s here.” _A witness. Someone to see what’s happening. What’s going to happen._

Despite their arguments, Adam hadn’t felt physically threatened by Ronan before. He did now.

He wondered what Ronan had been dreaming before he’d come up.

Ronan tilted his head like a curious bird, just a little tick. Like a bird of prey about to swoop down and shred the rabbit who thought it was safe in the shade of a tree.

Adam’s heart felt like that of a prey animal, wild and jerky and kicking. “So…I’m leaving.”

Ronan shook his head once. His eyes were still narrow, head still cocked. When he took a step, all of his muscles coiled at once, like a cat about to pounce.

Adam stumbled back. “Why?” he demanded, wiping sweating hands on his jeans.

Ronan hesitated. “Why what?” he asked, his voice a husky growl.

It wasn’t the clear, harsh voice Adam was used to hearing, and it sent a chill along his spine. “What do you want?”

Ronan stood stock still for a moment, and the feral look fell away, leaving behind a pale face and rounded eyes. “I don’t know.”

This Ronan was different, terrifying because Adam had never seen it before, but at least he wasn’t homicidal. “Why don’t you go to sleep?” he asked, keeping his distance. “Your bed is still here, right?”

Ronan jerked a shrug, his breath coming in sharply.

“I know I pissed you off, but I want to leave now,” Adam said firmly, praying that the tone wouldn’t set Ronan off again.

It did.

He blew out his breath. “Why don’t you stay?”

“What?”

“Stay.”

“Why?” Adam shook his head and stuck his hands in his pockets. He wasn’t quite sure what to do with them. He looked around the darkened room, at Gansey’s piles of books, at the desk and the mint plant and the rotary phone. The trampled, miniature version of Henrietta. Gansey’s bed. There was a bag on the ground, a plastic bag with something tied around the handle.

“What’s that?” Adam asked, because he needed a distraction.

“Blue threw it at me earlier and said to split it with Gansey.” Ronan’s tone was dismissive. He and Blue weren’t exactly best friends.

Adam knew how he felt.

“What is it?”

“I didn’t look.”

“Did she say anything besides to split it with Gansey?” Adam asked in exasperation.

“She said it wasn’t from her,” Ronan said flatly. “Something about Calla or Persephone.”

 _How do you not remember which one?_ Adam thought, deeply annoyed. Neither name was _Ashley_ or _Amber_ -like, easily mixed up or forgotten.

Adam studied Ronan for a moment. Obviously, because he hadn’t been paying attention to her. He wondered why he disliked Blue so much. Was it because she had joined their group in the middle of the search? That she’d changed thing? That her family clashed with his religion?

“I’m going to look.”

Ronan made a wide, sweeping gesture, a way of saying _go the fuck ahead_ without wasting his breath.

Adam broke the purple ribbon tying the grocery bags together and peered inside. A plastic container of bacon sat atop of a cherry pie covered in cling wrap.

Puzzled, he stared into it for a long time, thoughts wheeling around his head. There was a lot of bacon jammed into the container. The pie was intricately made, so he thought it must have taken time to make. For the first time, he wished he had a cell phone to call Blue and ask her what this meant.

But she hadn’t brought him pie or bacon, so obviously she didn’t think it involved him.

“What?” Ronan asked, standing far back, arms crossed tightly.

“Well, it’s not poison, unless she poisoned the pie. Probably they’re cooking a lot over there, now that Maura’s gone.” That must’ve been it. “Calla or Persephone probably sent her to get rid of some of this stuff.”

Ronan didn’t come closer. “You should leave.”

It was not a question, or a command. But it sounded like both. Adam’s thoughts were confused. He glared at the bacon like it might tell him what was going on.

“Should I?” he asked finally, curling his fists atop his knees.

“Yes.”

“ _Can_ I?”

“I wasn’t stopping you.”

Adam let out a sharp laugh. “You would have.”

Ronan’s voice sounded closer. “You scared of me, Parrish?” It sounded like a dare, a plea, a laugh.

Adam was _scared of_ whatever was happening. He was scared he’d kill someone close to him, he was scared Blue might be onto something about how his temper reacted. He wasn’t sure if he was scared of Ronan, or his own feelings.

“Did Blue look okay?” he finally asked.

“She looked _fine_ ,” Ronan sneered, like _fine_ was something wrong.

It was strange, because Ronan had lightened up to Blue after she’d helped Gansey look for Matthew. Ronan adored Matthew, though he’d never say it quite like that, so Blue had helped herself when she’d helped Matthew. Not that it had been like that—her helping was a part of her. A decision made without her even stopping to think on it.

He’d lightened up since her mother disappeared, too, though it wasn’t an obvious thing. He only snarled at her as much as he snarled at everyone else now, and possibly even less, because he was snarling at people less.

Now it seemed he was back to hating her for some particular reason, though that reason wasn’t clear.

“I just wanted to know because she’s probably worried about Maura,” Adam said defensively.

Something softened. Adam couldn’t tell what, but something did. There was something in Ronan that was sympathetic to her about the whole missing mother thing. It was just buried very, very deep, beneath scars, and alcohol, and anger and sadness.

Maura was underground, according to her note, and so was Glendower. But were they together? Had something drawn her there, or dragged her? Was she racing Gansey and the boys to wake him, or was she tugging them along, impatient to get there together?

“She looked annoyed,” Ronan said finally, his voice still flat. “She threw the bag at me and said it was from Calla and Persephone and told me to split it with Gansey. Then she left.”

“You didn’t _say_ anything?”

Ronan gave him a bored look. “Like what?”

Adam shook his head. “Never mind.” He popped open the container with his thumb. “Gansey isn’t here, so I’m going to take some of this.”

His appetite had become nearly unmanageable since Cabeswater had come back. He found himself ravenous at every turn. Not that he didn’t know how to deal with hunger, but he wasn’t sure when he’d last been so hungry so _often._

“You’re leaving?” Ronan asked. His voice sounded younger than it ever had, at least to Adam. Young and angry and scared.

When he looked at Ronan, however, he looked like himself, standing back in the dark, arms crossed, chin tilted back, eyes narrowed.

“There’s no reason to stay.” Which was not an answer, Adam realized. Was he _looking_ for a reason to stay? Did he need one? He was welcome here. He knew that, despite the fact that he’d never let himself enjoy it.

“Fine.” Ronan went to the door and opened it.

Adam was annoyed, feeling as though he’d been shoved. He stalked toward the door, cold bacon in hand, and stopped in front of Ronan. He snapped, “I don’t know what I did to piss you off, but next time, I’ll keep walking.”

Ronan leaned forward. He did not lean down, which meant Adam had to tilt his head back to keep eye contact. He hadn’t realized how much _smaller_ he was than Ronan, a few inches seeming more like a foot from this new, somewhat helpless angle. He didn’t like it.

“What?”

“I’m not pissed off,” Ronan said with a cruel, curling smile.

Adam lifted an eyebrow. “Since I seem to be the one you’re pissing on, I’d say you were.” He kept his face and voice cool, but when he took a step back, he bumped into the door jamb, ruining the effect.

Ronan leaned forward more. Not threatening. The move reminded Adam inexplicably of an eager dog straining forward to greet someone.

“ _What_ , Ronan?”

That was when Ronan Lynch tipped his head forward until his forehead was pressed to Adam’s, their eyes and noses lined up. The unexpected skin contact had Adam frozen in place, eyes wide and staring. Ronan didn’t say anything, blue eyes locked with Adam’s.

There was fear there, veiled behind some sort of handy disguise. Anger. Indifference. Whatever worked.

Adam started to speak, but stopped, because the motion of opening his mouth caused his lower lip to brush against Ronan’s. His face went red. Ronan’s did not. He simply kept his gaze on Adam, a hard, deliberate light in his eyes. Was he trying to communicate something? If he was, Adam was not getting the message.

He couldn’t hear anything over his own heart, so if Ronan were to try to tell him what the message was, he probably wouldn’t have gotten it, anyway. His breath came and went rapidly, like a child who’d been running where he shouldn’t have been. Scared, panicked, thrilled.

Ronan gripped Adam’s upper arm tightly, holding him in place. Adam swallowed hard, eyes widening when Ronan tipped his chin down just enough so that their lips met lightly.

Adam jumped like he’d received a face-full of cold water. He felt like he had, too. He opened his mouth to say something, sliding his lips across Ronan’s, the friction created slight, but enough to have his eyes fluttering closed momentarily. Ronan’s hand moved from Adam’s arm to his shoulder, then the side of his neck. His fingers were long and firm, pressing against his windpipe and his pulse, guiding Adam back against the wall.

Adam’s own hands raised, part defense, part need, confused and scared and heated. Ronan’s teeth grazed Adam’s lip, then bit down before he pressed closer, pinning his body against Adam’s against the door jamb, which dug painfully into his back, keeping him grounded.

 _Dreaming? Nightmare? I don’t understand._ What he did understand that Ronan was kissing him and he was kissing back and it didn’t feel wrong, even when Ronan’s hands grabbed at his hips and moved him back into the apartment, still moving his lips and tongue on Adam’s.

Adam flung out his hand and the door slammed shut, the sound echoing like a shot in his head. He gripped at Ronan’s bare shoulder, either to keep himself upright or just because he needed to hold onto something. His nails dug in, he pulled himself closer to Ronan just as they slammed into the wall beside the door. His teeth snagged at Ronan’s upper lip.

“S-sor-“ Adam began, before Ronan let out a deep growling noise, not exactly a protest.

He pressed his palms to either side of Adam’s face suddenly, pulling his mouth away to catch his breath. He kissed him lightly between each inhale, eyes squeezed shut like he was afraid of what he might find when he opened them.

Adam was panting too, and shaking. He didn’t understand his own body, his own thoughts. What was happening? What changed? Why did he want Ronan to kiss him again?

“You’re shaking,” Ronan observed. His voice was husky again, his lips bright red even in the dark.

“So are you,” Adam shot back, because he was. He had questions. _Why did you do that? Who are you? Why did I let you do that?_ He examined his own reaction for signs that it was involuntary. Had he only let Ronan kiss him because he was afraid of saying no? More than likely not.

What now?

Adam’s eyes flicked toward the door, now firmly closed, and by his own hand.

Ronan’s hand slid down to grip his jaw painfully tight. “What?” he demanded.

Adam’s eyes narrowed. He was done being the victim. “Let go of me.” His words were garbled by the inability to move his jaw, but his point was clear enough.

Ronan dropped his hands to his side. He looked like he’d been struck. Alive and pulsing and panting and wired.

“Do what you want.”

Adam’s heart raced. What was that supposed to mean? Was that a dismissal? _Leave or stay, I don’t care_ or was it, _Do what you want with me, but don’t just stand there_? He couldn’t tell. Sweat made his bangs stick to his forehead and temples.

Nerves made his pulse a rapid, unpredictable thing. He might pass out.

He stepped toward Ronan, fear making his extremities feel cold. His face felt hot, his lips tingly. With some surprise, he realized he was going to kiss Ronan this time, to see what it was like when he started things. What that would change, if anything.

 

**Ronan Lynch**

Ronan held himself still, his breath caught somewhere in his chest as Adam walked closer, until he had to stare up at him. His brows furrowed as he did, as if he were trying to figure out a riddle. Or figure out how to scold a child. He parted his lips.

He said, “I don’t know how,” with a look on his face like he would break at the wrong answer.

“How to what?” Ronan asked very precisely.

“To do what I want,” Adam admitted it like a sin.

Something in the statement made Ronan mad, but he couldn’t figure out what, so he kept quiet, waiting for Adam to figure out what it was he wanted to do.

“Why…” Adam began, fumbling for his question. Finally, he shook his head. “Never mind.”

 _Ask me something. I’ll answer. I never lie._ But he wasn’t sure he wanted to answer the questions Adam might have. Why he did it. When he realized. Why Adam. He didn’t know the answers anyway.

Adam lifted himself suddenly onto the toes of his ratty sneakers and knocked his forehead against Ronan’s, but he didn’t stop to curse, he just angled his head and slanted his mouth across Ronan’s.

The shiver that raced down Ronan’s spine was probably more relief than anything—judgment might have broken something irreparable, at least tonight. Acceptance made him weak, but relieved.

Adam lacked finesse, but made up for it in enthusiasm, a meek and shy kind of enthusiasm that made Ronan want to guide him, though he wasn’t sure where—the bed, outside, the ground? He pressed a hand to Adam’s face, the delicate bones feeling bird-like under his palm. He instinctively pressed harder, as if he wanted to know how much pressure it would take to break the fragile.

_No, _he thought as he slid his hand behind Adam’s neck. _No, this is something I won’t destroy.___

__When the door slammed open, he realized he might have already done that._ _

__Adam let out a gasp as he jumped back and away, eyes enormous even in the dark._ _

__Noah stood in the doorway while both boys stared at him, aghast. He shrugged both shoulders up to his ears. “It’s no big deal,” he said placidly. “I kissed Blue.”_ _

__Ronan’s eye ticked, and his gaze slid to Adam, who looked shocked and angry. It seemed like everyone in the group but Ronan was infatuated with Blue Sargent._ _

__“Why didn’t you _tell _me anyone was up here?” Adam demanded.___ _

____Noah smiled faintly and disappeared._ _ _ _

____**END** _ _ _ _


	2. Devil's Dance Floor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Blue and Ronan friendship type fic

**Devil’s Dance Floor**

Blue had another package for Monmouth, a box this time, because Persephone had sent two pies, Calla had made an elaborate and enormous bacon sub, and Blue had tossed a salad in for good measure. She refused to believe it was because Gansey was still in town.

She took it in late afternoon, trying to dodge at least some of the sun’s unforgiving rays.

It was more than a disappointment to find neither Gansey nor Adam’s car out front of Monmouth. Instead, she found Ronan’s BMW.

Resigned, thinking of the last time, she opened the outer door with her elbow and some decent maneuvering. By the time she’d made her way up the inner steps, the sun was setting and her arms were aching from the box.

She kicked the door lightly three times in lieu of knocking. “Ronan, open the door, my arms are full!” she called.

After a long, stressful moment, the door opened to reveal Ronan, glowering and…muddy.

“What were you doing?” she asked in surprise, nearly dropping the box. “Here, this is for you guys.”

He stepped back and gestured her forth. Sighing, she went in as if entering Monmouth was a problem.

“You know, we didn’t poison the food,” she said conversationally, finding the only clear place to set the food out was on Gansey’s new pool table—Orla had snapped that she needed the box back.

“Why do you keep bringing food over here?” Ronan asked—well, demanded.

“Because we’re running out of places to put everything and I guess Persephone wants to find out your favorite pie flavor, because she asks if you’ve eaten any of them.” And it was a constant surprise that she was paying attention to anyone, let alone the raven boys, and let alone the one Calla despised.

Ronan looked at the food with a look on his face that Blue couldn’t decipher.

She decided it was disdain and decided to be insulted by it. “Fine. Throw it out, I don’t care, but tell—Adam and Gansey part of it is for them.” She stomped to the door.

“Adam just left.”

The odd tone had her turning slowly. “Okay…?” She studied him. “Did you guys bury another body?”

“ _Another_?” The way he asked seemed to imply she was the one who was missing something, not him.

“The…bird thing. At your…home.”

“No, not another bird.” He seemed done, until he said, “Are you bringing these over because they’re all worried about-“

“Yes,” Blue interrupted rather loudly. “Everyone is very upset and baking distracts them. That and their dealings with the devil to get mundane visions about the number eight and who Mr. Dawdes will meet at the supermarket.” She inhaled to go on. Apparently, what started as a way to distract them both had set off her temper.

“Is Mr. Gray still at your house?” Ronan asked before she could go on.

The question halted her temper. “Yes. He doesn’t have anywhere else to go right now. He has no interest in…taking the Greywaren anymore. Or at least he says he doesn’t.” She furrowed her brow.

Ronan reached for a cut of the sandwich with a mud-streaked hand.

This was a step toward peace; she saw her opportunity to leave on a high note.

“Enjoy. Tell them I say hi.”

“We went to Cabeswater.”

Blue hesitated, most of her brain wondering why Ronan was telling her something. “You and Adam?” she asked slowly.

“Yes.”

She looked him over.

His black shirt and jeans were streaked with mud, his knees especially caked with it. His hands were sort of clean, but in a way that suggested he’d washed them or at least tried to, hastily. There was a smear along his jaw, a bruise on his neck that disappeared under his shirt, and a split on his lip.

“What _happened_ in Cabeswater? Did you guys…have an accident or something?”

“We didn’t have an accident,” he replied.

He hadn’t said that nothing had happened, though.

“Did something bad happen, then?” she tried.

“No.”

Blue wondered how to ask why he’d deigned to tell her these things, then give her short, vague answers.

“Why did you guys go to Cabeswater?” she asked, then, before he could answer or decide not to answer, she asked, “Where’s Chainsaw?” Worry creased her forehead. Was that why he was acting so weird?

Ronan angled his head. “In my room. She’s tired. Why?”

Crisply, Blue replied, “I like all animals.” She found Gansey’s desk chair and sat. “Okay,” she began, “why did you guys go to Cabeswater? Or why did you want to tell me?”

If Blue thought she’d get a normal Ronan response to either of those, she was mistaken. What she did get was a shock akin to being hit very suddenly with a golf club at a batting cage.

Ronan’s high, sharp Celtic cheekbones turned very faintly red, but he was pale enough that it was immediately noticeable.

Blue blinked rapidly, sure she’d hallucinated the occurrence.

Finally, Ronan said, “We were avoiding Gansey.”

_Shame?_ He should be ashamed.

Her voice was harsh when she said, “I assume you know how miserable he’s been for the past week, since his _friends_ have been busy.”

Ronan, never one to take a shot without firing back, skinned his upper lip back over his teeth, a sneer worthy of a warrior going to battle. “Well, he’s been going to you for company. Tell me why that’s a problem.”

Flatly, Blue replied, “I’ve got to work. He’s been driving himself crazy with research since…since my mom disappeared—“

“For _you_.”

“For _Glendower_ ,” she retorted. She understood Gansey was a good person, at least in some things, but she had no delusions. If Maura was with Glendower, they’d find Maura. But only as a side benefit, at least on the guy’s part.

“I have to go,” she said, getting up quickly. “Calla doesn’t like me to be gone for very long, especially not with…you.”

Ronan stood up and wiped his hands on his pants. “We were avoiding Gansey,” he repeated, stepping toward the door. He held her gaze for a long moment; for some reason, his stare seemed aggressive.

_Or intense,_ she realized, _trying to tell me something?_ “Should I ask why?”

He gave a one shouldered shrug, but his gaze was unwavering.

_Adam and Ronan avoiding Gansey together. I don’t get it._

“You…found something? Did you find something in Cabeswater?” Her heart tripped. “Did you find a sign of my mom?” she asked breathlessly.

A foreign look flashed across Ronan’s face, then was gone. “No,” he said quickly. “We didn’t find anything.”

For a long moment, they stood in silence, looking around at everything but each other.

“Thanks for telling me,” Blue mumbled. Awkwardly, she stepped around him to the door.

Wordlessly, Ronan opened it, and, when she started down the steps, he followed her.

Blue tried understanding what Ronan was trying to tell her. He was usually blunt, so this was something important; she understood that. But why hide the important stuff? _Because he’s Ronan,_ she thought with a sort of exasperated affection.

She glanced over her shoulder at him, flicking her gaze down to his knees. “Was Adam as muddy as you are?” she asked with a snicker.

One sharp brow lifted as he answered with a flat, “Yes.”

She blinked. Let out a breath. “ _Oh._ ” She remained silent all the way out of Monmouth. She didn’t say anything when Ronan beckoned her from over his shoulder while he sauntered to his BMW.

He unlocked the doors and waited until she sat in the passenger seat, and still she remained quiet, even as what sounded like bagpipes began pumping out of the speakers.

Once, she opened her mouth to speak and thought better of it. She tilted her head and tried again, then stopped again. “Huh,” she finally said. “Am I wrong-?” she began, looking at him almost pleadingly. _Clear this up for me, please._

“No,” he said flatly.

“So Adam…” she trailed off, nodded and pursed her lips. “Okay.”

He glanced at her quickly, then away, toward the road. “Okay?” he repeated, then went quiet, his face going carefully blank, as if he was angry at himself for speaking.

She felt herself shrug. “Okay.”

She saw his chest rise and fall sharply, the skin around his eyes tightening just a little.

“Ronan,” she leaned forward in her seat. “It’s okay. I know _you_ know that. But maybe it helps that someone else knows it too?”

He didn’t grace this with an answer, or even a glare.

She sighed. “I’m trying to figure out why you told me, that’s all. Honesty, right? I came over to give you pie.” She let out a snorting laugh, shook her head at herself.

Ronan’s lips twitched. “Yeah.”

“This is probably insensitive, but do you _like_ Gansey?” she asked, thinking that that might explain his dislike of her. Maybe he could tell she had a crush on Gansey, too. The thought made her stomach squirm uncomfortably.

“Not in that way,” he answered with finality. As in _Let it go, because I’m not going to answer anymore questions in this topic._

“How’s Matthew?” she asked quickly, looking out the window beside her.

“He’s _fine.”_

“Okay, thanks,” she mumbled with an eye roll. “You are _seriously_ combative. I just asked after him. I _was_ there trying to _find_ him when Kavinsky was blowing up cars.” She sealed her lips together after that. Kavinsky was dead.

“You were.” Ronan glanced at her again. “He asked about you. I told him you brought the pie over. He likes the cherry.”

The polite conversation had Blue blinking rapidly. “Huh. You don’t have to force yourself, like paying back a debt with manners. It’s weird.”

A smirk curled the edges of his mouth. “You’re like Noah.”

Offended, Blue drew herself up. “I’m not like anyone but _me_.”

“You were just one day suddenly _part_ of the group and when you aren’t tagging along, it feels like a piece of the car is missing and it won’t work right until we grab you to come with.” His brows lowered. “Shouldn’t be like that. You’re annoying.”

“Likewise,” she said, though she was pleased. And concerned. “Did you hit your head when you and Adam were…canoodling?”

A quiet choking sound came from Ronan’s throat, though it was clear he was trying to suppress it. “Ca _noodling_?”

Blue took a moment, because it was the first time she had ever heard Ronan sound like he could be any other boy that she had said that to in Henrietta, or Virginia for that matter, and it was just so strange that she hadn’t realized how _not_ “any other boy” any of her raven boys were.

“It’s a perfectly serviceable word. I wanted to ask,” she admitted, “about Adam, but I’m not sure what I should and shouldn’t be asking.”

“You should say it whatever it is, and I’ll answer if I want to,” Ronan nearly snapped the words.

Blue sighed. “I guess Adam isn’t mad at me anymore, then. I just wanted to ask if he was still mad at me,” she corrected.

“I don’t know. I didn’t ask.”

Which was not surprising. He’d probably been otherwise occupied. “Have you told Gansey?” she asked, then shook her head. “No, why _haven’t_ you told Gansey?”

He answered this by rolling his shoulders, turning down a dirt road that was definitely _not_ Fox Way.

“Okay. Why are you hiding it from Gansey?”

“It?” he repeated with ice in his tone.

“You and Adam. And _where_ are we going?” she asked, peering out the window.

“Fast. We’re going fast.” And he pressed down on the gas pedal, lurching the car forward.

Blue’s breath came out in a long, slow but steady stream. She hadn’t been in a car going this fast—ever. She had heard Gansey mumbling to Adam about Ronan’s speeding, and she’d seen the speeding tickets on his bedroom door, but it was nothing to being in the vehicle while he whipped it around the curves and bumps.

She found herself laughing, a grin breaking over her face as she leaned toward the window, nose bumping up on the glass. It slid down with the click and whir of an automatic button; she grinned at Ronan over her shoulder, then leaned her head out the window.

The wind snaked through her hair and stole a couple clips, but most of them stayed in place. She laughed, but the sound was snatched away by the gust. She leaned out further, pressing her lips together with an errant thought of bugs, even as she smiled so hugely she thought her cheeks would split.

Ronan sped up, the engine growling as they flew.

Blue sat back down, her chest heaving as she fought for the breath she hadn’t realized she’d lost. “Well,” she said at length, “I get the speeding tickets now, anyway.”

He shot her a grin so hard and fierce for a moment she thought he was angry; but his eyes, shockingly blue in that moment, were full of something like wild joy, so she grinned back.

 

When they made it to 300 Fox Way, Blue was disappointed in a small way. She swore to herself it was just the child’s longing for a theme park roller coaster that made her enjoy the ride so much.

_That’s as close as I’m going to get to one for now, anyway._ She banished the thoughts and opened her door.

“Thanks for the ride, Ronan,” she said sincerely. “And, uh, tell Adam I said hi.”

He nodded and flicked the radio dial, turning the music up. “Thanks for the food,” he said without looking toward her.

She grinned. “What’s your favorite pie?” she asked and laughed, slamming the door.

“Apple,” he called out his window.

He laughed at her dropped-jaw expression while he whipped out of the driveway.

_He is so_ weird!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it's not Pynch, but it leads to Pynch in the next chapter, so I hope you enjoyed it. Comment or whatever. Thanks! <3


	3. Criminal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What happened in Cabeswater with Ronan and Adam in the last chapter? This.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy the Pynch

_**Monmouth, 11** _

 

Adam stared at the paper that had been folded on his passenger seat, swallowing thickly. His first thought was _who writes letters anymore?_ And then he’d thought maybe it was Blue. But the handwriting was spiky and almost threatening, thin and precise. Ronan’s. 

 

He took a deep breath and studied it for a moment longer. He had a total of nine minutes to get to Monmouth if he wanted to make it there by eleven on the dot. He had to decide if he wanted to get there at eleven. If he wanted to go when he knew that Gansey was not there, when he knew that Ronan was alone and probably meant it. 

 

Adam pulled out of the church’s parking lot and pointed his car toward Monmouth. Drawn there. Unwilling and eager, confused. 

 

Ronan was outside waiting. He wore black jeans and a t-shirt, leaning against his car with his head tipped down, scowling at his shoes. He wasn’t wearing his leather bracelets. 

 

Adam got out of his car and hesitated beside it, unsure of himself. When Ronan tilted his head, smiled a little, and beckoned him closer, he tried not to trip over himself getting there. 

 

“Where are we going?” Adam asked, speaking slowly and enunciating carefully. He’d never  
been more conscious of his accent. 

 

“Cabeswater,” Ronan said rather abruptly. “Get in.”

 

Disappointment and relief warred in Adam’s chest. Disappointment won, and made his voice sharp, defensive. “Why’re we going there today?” 

 

The look Ronan gave him was surprisingly patient. “You’ll see,” he said with a very small smile.

 

The ride to Cabeswater was quiet and fast. Adam didn’t know what to say. He didn’t know what to ask. Ronan wasn’t offering anything, either, staying silent as they whipped toward Cabeswater at a speed that could kill them if they impacted with something like a tree. 

 

When they arrived, Ronan got out without saying anything. Adam sat still for a moment, wondering if he should follow. He couldn’t tell if he was irritated or disappointed or confused or scared. He followed Ronan into the trees. 

 

“What are we looking for, Ronan?” Adam asked quietly.

 

Ronan turned around and spread his hands out at his side, his chin tipped down enough that his eyes were just shadows to Adam; he made himself look like some avenging forest god, Pan waking to fight back for the trees. An evil Pan.

 

“We aren’t looking for anything,” he said as an unholy grin spread over his face. “We’re just here to walk.”

 

 _I have to work in a couple hours, I haven’t eaten today, I’m going to be exhausted at work,_ Adam thought, but what he said was, “Alright.” 

 

Ronan dropped his arms and lifted his head; the smile on his face seemed less devilish this way, and smaller. “Matthew wanted to come back here, after we brought Mom back.” 

 

Adam made a humming noise, because he didn’t know what to say. Again. Gansey always had the words, and Blue always had the will to speak her mind, and everyone else seemed to know how to say something in the right moments but here was Adam with no voice, not now, not before, not ever. 

 

“Is Gansey out of town again?” 

 

“He’ll be back tonight,” Ronan replied, putting his hands in his pockets in a very Gansey move. 

 

For the first time, Adam wondered what Ronan was like before his father died; was he like Gansey? Or was it that Gansey had changed, become more responsible and likeable –to Adam, at least—because he’d had to parent Ronan simply out of love for his friend? 

 

Love, Adam was beginning to understand, often made you do things you weren’t sure you wanted to do. 

 

Thunder began to grumble above them, before a light misting of rain began to fall. 

 

“Adam,” Ronan said, abruptly right beside him, so close he could feel his body heat. 

 

“Yes?” he asked, swiping his bangs out of his eyes. He stumbled back when Ronan stepped closer, until he hit a tree. He stupidly looked up at the tree, almost accusingly, then whipped his gaze back down at Ronan when he leaned even closer. 

“I’m going to kiss you now,” Ronan said very clearly. He let his weight fall against Adam, chest to chest, hips to hips, and, then, at last, mouth to mouth.

Adam let out a breath and gripped Ronan’s shoulders hard, pulling him closer. 

Ronan brought his hands up to grip Adam’s face momentarily before sliding down to grip his hips, pressing into him and making him shudder. Ronan nipped his bottom lip lightly before sliding his hands under the backs of Adam’s thighs, boosting him up onto Ronan’s hips. He latched his teeth onto Adam’s shoulder, then grazed them up his neck to his jaw, before Adam moaned and grabbed Ronan’s jaw and forced their mouths together again.

The rain was coming down harder now, making the ground slick beneath Ronan’s feet—they slid down into the mud. Ronan, gasping, leaned back a little, reaching up to pin Adam’s hands above his head before he kissed him again. 

Cold rain and mud soaked his clothes, but he barely felt it; he was burning up, squirming beneath Ronan; he had to touch and move, he couldn’t just lay here anymore. 

With a surprising burst of strength, he rolled Ronan under him and slid his hands down his chest, finding his shirt already soaking through. Under it, Ronan’s flesh was hot, and his muscular belly quivered.

He leaned back, chin up, to let Adam do as he pleased. He pressed fast, open-mouthed kisses down Ronan’s chest to his jeans’ waistband, which is when Ronan finally reared up and shoved Adam under him again; the ground felt unsteady beneath them, slick and dangerous. Adam arched up and gasped when Ronan bit down hard on his shoulder and laughed loudly. He felt Ronan’s long fingered hands sliding up under his shirt, stroking over his ribs and back down by his hips, where his pants were now very low, weighed down by the rain and mud. 

His skin felt sensitive and new where Ronan was touching him.

Adam brought his hand up and slid his finger along Ronan’s jaw, the sharp, angular line of it. They slipped a few feet and it was then that Adam realized they were actually slipping down a muddy hill, toward an enormous puddle. He leaned his head forward, peering over Ronan’s shoulder for a better look, but Ronan turned his face back and kissed him again, until they slid more and Adam’s teeth split his lip open. 

“I’m sorry,” he gasped, pressing his closed lips to the wound.

Ronan hitched Adam’s leg up on his hip, until their legs were so tangled together that they wouldn’t have been able to stand. Ronan dug his knees into the mud, pressing into Adam roughly, kissing him fiercely and both of them running their hands over each other and exploring and wishing and trying desperately to breathe without backing off. 

“Ummm,” Adam managed to gasp, digging his nails into Ronan’s sides. “I have to, ummm, I have to get—ready for work,” he panted, catching Ronan’s mouth with his own again.

Ronan just let out a low noise and pressed harder against him. 

“Ronan. Ronan, stop,” Adam sighed, and blinked in surprise when Ronan went still. “I—what?”

Ronan tipped his head forward. “You said stop,” he said quietly. He looked up at the sky. “The rain stopped, too.” 

The rain didn’t matter, either way. They were soaked and filthy and practically pasted together. 

 

“I really do have to get ready for work. Especially because I have to shower now.”

A gleam of something mischievous came to Ronan’s bright blue eyes, but Adam just shook his head, even when Ronan rolled his hips a little, a smile curving his lips smugly when Adam gasped. 

“I really do have to go,” he managed. He nearly blurted that he was starving. 

“Let’s get something to eat before we go,” Ronan said, peeling himself off of Adam. His knees and were caked with mud, his hands and face streaked with it. 

Adam got up and brushed at the dirt sticking to his back and legs. Ronan had definitely taken the worst of it, even though Adam had been on his back most of the time. He glanced up at Ronan, catching sight of his swollen red lips and found his hand fisted in wet black t-shirt, yanking Ronan down toward him for another hard kiss. 

Ronan cupped his hand around the back of Adam’s neck, drawing him closer, drawing the kiss out, softening it until they were both trembling. 

“Let’s go,” Ronan murmured, stepping back. 

They ate at a diner they found just outside of Henrietta, sliding into their booth without noticing the stares. Adam was too hungry to protest when Ronan snarled that he was paying; they just ordered whatever looked good and shoveled it down like starved wolves, both of them leaning over their plates like inmates wary of their food being stolen.

After they got back in the car they leaped at each other, cursing and gasping when the gear shift caught one of their hips or legs as they tangled together. Ronan let out a nearly inaudible groan when Adam slid his mouth down to Ronan’s shoulder while Ronan’s grip on his hair was like iron. 

After they’d managed to calm down, they drove back to Monmouth. Gansey still wasn’t back. 

“What time are you off?” Ronan asked, still breathing kind of unevenly. 

Adam nearly asked _off what_ but his brain clicked back on. “Oh, midnight, maybe one if I can grab an extra hour there, get some overtime.” He shrugged and unbuckled his seatbelt. “Thanks for lunch,” he said awkwardly. 

Just when he reached for the door, Ronan grabbed him by the shirt and dragged him over to his side of the car, kissing him again and again and again before Adam finally gasped that he really should go to get cleaned up. 

“Okay,” Ronan said in a remarkably calm voice, as if he wasn’t affected; speaking as the boy sprawled across his lap, Adam could say he definitely was affected. 

 

Finally in his own car, Adam decided it was a day well-spent, his lips still tingling as he drove. When he saw Blue walking down a side-road with a box in her hands, heading toward Monmouth, he was ashamed that he sped up to get away before she saw him; he didn’t know how to explain to her. He wasn’t sure he wanted to. It wasn’t her business. 

**Ronan Lynch**

He finally got up to go in about five minutes after Adam had left. Little aftershocks of surprise and pleasure kept rippling through him. Every bit of his skin that Adam had touched, bit, licked, or kissed tingled, so he walked carefully, as if he might break. He wasn’t sure he hadn’t already shattered to pieces in Cabeswater. 

The last two and a half hours were a blur of sensations, of the sound of gasps and groans and sighs, of unspeakable pleasure and satisfaction. Ronan wanted Adam to come back, to come upstairs. 

Before he went inside, Chainsaw swooped down and landed on his shoulder with an indignant ruffling of feathers. He cupped his hand over her head for a moment. 

“I didn’t want to watch you eating mice all day,” he said quietly. “Plus, it might’ve put him off, and then I’d have been nowhere.”

She let out a soft caw, the way she did to speak to Ronan, only this sound was different, softer. She turned her head to look out the door while Ronan went to the stairs.

“Someone coming?” he wondered. “Probably.”


	4. Talk Dirty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And this is after Cabeswater.

**Talk Dirty**

Ronan liked details. Maybe he didn’t always notice details, or pay them enough attention—he certainly didn’t obsess over them the way Gansey did—but he liked them.

Chainsaw’s downy feathers were gone, for example, leaving the sleek, oil smooth black feathers of an adult raven. Her eyes were bright and intelligent, her head cocked just a little to watch him from her perch.

Gansey was spending time with Noah and Blue, who seemed to have made it their personal mission to get him out of Monmouth as much as possible.

Ronan was sitting on the edge of his bed, knees facing the wall, his head turned to look over his shoulder.

Adam was stretched across his bed on his stomach wearing nothing but a pair of jeans, his shirt long since discarded as a concession to the heat from the summer sun.

The window was open, and there was a fan on, teasing Adam’s hair up. His pen moved carefully over the paper, shaping the words of his extra credit essay he’d taken on for the summer.

Ronan watched, admiring the blades of his shoulders, the knobs of his spine that still stood out too far, the way his arm tensed ever so slightly when he began writing after a thoughtful pause.

He’d been at Gansey’s desk until Ronan had scoffed at him and told him to come in his room.

Now he just did his work, completely oblivious to Ronan’s millions of thoughts centered on him. He scratched out another line, rewrote it, rolled his shoulders.

Or maybe not so oblivious.

Testingly, Ronan shifted his weight so he was further back on the bed, pulling his legs up; Adam paused until he was settled, then kept writing.

Ronan slowly shifted again, so he was facing Adam. He tilted his head this way and that, examining the tanned expanse of his back, the sharp angles of his shoulders, the ridges of his ribs, the slight dip of his hipbones, his lower back where his jeans were slung low and slipping lower every time Adam scooted closer to his paper unconsciously.

Finally, Ronan’s left knee was about an inch from Adam’s right hip, his right knee by Adam’s ribs. He just sat there for a long moment, observing, before he reached to touch, his fingers sliding across Adam’s shoulders, then, one by one, tracing down his spine and watching all of his muscles tense as he did.

“Trying to work here, Lynch,” Adam said finally.

“Uh-huh,” Ronan replied, keeping his focus on his task. He slid his fingers slowly across Adam’s lower back to his left hip, pressing his palm into the fragile bone and flesh, his fingers pressing gently against his stomach and pelvis, increasing pressure just a little. He checked to see if he’d stopped writing before sliding his hand all the way under Adam’s lower stomach and flipping him over, onto his back.

“Hey-“ Adam began when his head bounced off the bed, but he shut his mouth when he saw Ronan smiling, kneeling beside him.

“Okay?”

Adam nodded, swallowing.

Ronan moved so he was straddling Adam’s hips, watching him look up as he did so.

His chest was paler than his back, just a little. His job took him outside sometimes, and it’d be hot—obviously the workers took their shirts off, to cool down some. 

“What?” Adam finally mumbled.

“Just looking,” Ronan replied, tracking his fingers over Adam’s stomach this time, his ribs. He watched Adam’s face, the flush coming over his cheeks, the hitch in his breath when Ronan’s fingers pressed against his ribs; his lips curved and he tensed, trying not to react. Ronan slid his hands up, along his chest to his throat, thumbing his jaw gently and moving along, running across his collarbone to his biceps, pressing into the muscle there, hearing Adam’s sigh.

“Ronan,” Adam mumbled, and it was then that Ronan realized he’d been tensed up the whole time, forcibly holding himself still.

Ronan stopped moving. “Yes?”

Adam blinked slowly, like he was partially asleep, and leaned up, pressing his mouth softly to Ronan’s, briefly.

Ronan gripped Adam’s wrists, leaned closer, until Adam was reclined again, while Ronan kissed him.

Adam twisted his wrists free and gripped Ronan’s shoulders, his tank bunching in Adam’s fists. He let out an annoyed huff and leaned away, pulling it up Ronan’s back until his hands ran across bare skin.

Adam hesitated. “Wait, wait, let me, let me see.”

“Huh?” Ronan pulled back, blinking confusedly. “Oh.” He yanked the tank over his head, threw it over his shoulder. “Okay.” He kissed at Adam’s neck again, making him gasp and moan.

“No, wait,” Adam said again, and Ronan sat back, panting. Adam slid out from under him and got on his knees in front of Ronan, looking at him.

His first thought came out of his mouth: “How are you so _pale_ in July?”

Ronan just shrugged and let his arms relax at his sides, let Adam look.

He was lean and muscular, which wasn’t news—Adam had seen him shirtless before. This was not new.

But it _was_. He could _touch_ now.

He reached out and put his hand flat on the center of Ronan’s chest, felt the fluttering heartbeat that was in no way showing on Ronan’s face. He slid his hand up to the side of Ronan’s neck, his other hand resting on Ronan’s hip, rubbing gently at the hem of his jeans.

Ronan sighed and pulled Adam closer, kissing him softly, his tongue hot and wet when it probed at Adam’s bottom lip.

He let his mouth open and grabbed Ronan’s bare shoulders, unsurprised when Ronan pushed him back so he was sitting against the wall—Ronan had a habit of making Adam feel that much smaller than him.

Ronan’s hands were on his thighs, kneading gently while they kissed.

Adam gasped, his muscles coiling, trembling.

He wasn’t sure what to do, exactly, but he was damn well going to try. He slid his hands down Ronan’s back, scraping his nails across heated flesh, causing Ronan to let out a little half gasp half laugh sound that made Adam smile against his mouth.

Ronan’s fingers fluttered briefly over the button of Adam’s jeans before moving up to cup his hip again.

Adam paused, wondered if he understood. He slid his lips down to Ronan’s neck, his shoulder, licking, kissing, nipping. He put his hands on Ronan’s hips, then, curiously, slid them around to the zipper and felt Ronan’s breath hitch, felt him freeze, felt him tense.

Adam lifted his eyes to Ronan, almost pulling away. They were still exploring each other, hadn’t gotten to their pants yet. He wasn’t sure of himself anyway, why would Ronan be sure of him yet if he wasn’t? Stupid-

Ronan reached between them and unbuttoned his own jeans, sliding the zipper down halfway, keeping his eyes on Adam.

Adam bit his lip and unbuttoned his own jeans, his fingers fumbling momentarily.

_This is stupid,_ he thought desperately, _we both know we’re wearing boxers under our jeans._

But nerves danced between them, nerves and heat and excitement. 

They each watched the other while undoing their own pants, until, finally, they pressed their lips together, frantic kissing and gasping and nipping as they struggled to get free of the denim.

As Adam kicked his jeans off the bed, he wondered, briefly, if he was ready for anything more than kissing in touching, but then Ronan’s mouth on his distracted him. He put his hands on Ronan’s ribs, pulling him closer, their chests pressing together. He was a little surprised to find that they were both trembling, both sweating just a bit in the heat, their bodies damp and hot.

Somehow or another, Adam ended up straddling Ronan, his hands wrapped tightly around Ronan’s wrists, knees pressing into his sides. Ronan rolled his hips up, smirking a little as Adam gasped, until Adam pressed down against him, which, in turn, made _Ronan_ gasp, his eyes fluttering closed.

Feeling bolder, Adam shifted his hips down, so he was sitting on Ronan’s thighs, slid his hand between them and felt Ronan shudder in surprise.

“You don’t have to-” he began just before Adam gave him a very firm stroke that had his eyes nearly crossing.

“Want to,” Adam gasped, pressing his mouth to Ronan’s chest, feeling his galloping heart against his lips.

“Gansey,” a voice warned, so out of place that both boys froze, gazes locked.

They heard the sound of the door opening, someone announcing their presence.

“Gansey, why don’t we-“ Blue’s voice echoed loudly, obviously trying to give them some warning.

Too late. Ronan and Adam were frozen in shock and horror, and Gansey, with a bright, flushed face, threw open the door.

“Ronan, I have an idea-“ his voice broke off, a stunned, comical look coming over his face. His happy flush quickly turned to mortification, eyes going round, mouth popping open. “I’m terribly sorry,” he began, slamming the door between them rather quickly.

Ronan’s whole body was tensed up; Adam just felt limp. What the _hell_ were they going to do about this?

“Maybe you should go talk to him?”

“Were you _watching_ or something?” Ronan demanded, acid in his tone. He sat up, nearly knocking Adam off the bed and onto the ground. He coiled his hand around Adam’s upper arm, steadying him, glaring into the room.

“ _ **No**_ ,” Noah said emphatically, shocked. “I realized he wanted to come tell you something so I came here to warn you as fast as I _could_.” The hurt in his tone was thick.

Adam felt sick. He knew what Gansey had seen, him leaning over Ronan, both of them nearly naked, flushed and sweaty and panting, lips red.

Ronan looked at Adam for a long moment. For a split second, there was something raw and hurt in his expression, then he cleared it. He lifted a brow, smirked. “Problem, Parrish?”

Adam swallowed. “I’m not sure…”

Ronan nodded, still smirking, and climbed out of bed. “Why don’t you get outta here, I’ll go find Gansey and tell him I accidentally dreamed a version of _you,_ and you can have been studying in Noah’s room? That way he won’t believe it was _you_ in here.”

The dismissive tone in his voice cut like shards of glass.

“I can’t,” Adam said with a deep, fast breath through his nose. He knew what he said next was what would be a deciding factor: was he more worried about what Gansey thought of him, or about how much he could hurt Ronan in less than an hour? “I can’t do that. We can go, um, go talk to him. Together.”

Ronan narrowed his eyes, pulled on his shirt. “Doesn’t matter,” he finally said, pulling on his jeans but not buttoning them yet. “He just whipped out of here. Blue’s still downstairs.”

“And about that—how did Blue know?”

Ronan glanced at him, his eyes half-lidded and guarded. “I told her,” he said flatly.

Adam felt his ears start to burn. “Why?” he asked finally.

“Because she _asked_ , Parrish, what do you think?” he snapped, doing up his pants and stalking out of the room while Adam knelt on the bed in just his boxers, blinking after him.

**Ronan Lynch**

Blue saw him coming and threw up her hands. “I tried to keep him outside,” she said immediately.

Ronan stalked around furiously for a moment, felt the sun burning on the back of his neck. “Whatever,” he finally responded, felt adrenaline coursing his veins, wanted to do something bad, break something.

“He’s not mad,” she offered. “He was surprised and mostly embarrassed, I guess.”

Embarrassed? Of course he was, he just walked in on his two best friends making out.

Blue huffed, bent down and scooped up a chunk of concrete. “Here,” she snapped, tossing it at him.

He caught it and flung it as far as he could in one fluid motion, felt better when it cracked hard against the street.

“What’s Adam doing?”

He whipped his head toward her, teeth bared. “He’s up there trying to figure out how to explain this to Gansey without _telling_ him what’s really going on.”

Blue’s face screwed up. “ _What?_ ” she demanded, her face flushing angrily. She stomped past him, but Ronan jumped into her path. “Move, Ronan,” she ordered, trying to dodge around him.

“Just go _home_ , Blue, you’re making things _worse_ ,” he hissed.

She poked him in the chest. Hard. “You go! I want to see Adam! He has _no right_ to try to do that—to lie to Gansey and make _you_ feel like you did something wrong,” she seethed, trying to duck past him and succeeding this time because Ronan had frozen.

He whirled round and ran in front of her again, blocking her entrance. “Don’t, just don’t,” he snapped, throwing his arms out. “I’m not afraid to knock you down,” he warned, bracing his legs because he was positive she wasn’t afraid to knock him down, either.

Her eyes narrowed dangerously, sparks of fury flying between the two. “Ronan, one way or another, I’m going to talk to Adam.”

“Go talk to Gansey or something,” he ordered harshly, tensing when she moved.

After a moment, she eased back, sighed. “I guess I won’t be mad at him if you’re not mad at him.”

Stiffly, Ronan asked, “Why would I be mad at him?”

She rolled her eyes. “Never mind, Ronan.” She hesitated, then reached out and touched his wrist, briefly closing her fingers around it before stepping away. “I’ll go look for Gansey. He probably didn’t go far anyway.”

Ronan sat at the bottom step, wondering what to do next. He wanted to wreck something. Something inside was hurting and fractured; it’d be easier to fix when he broke something.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I know that Ronan doesn't lie, but he did offer to lie for Adam, yes I did that on purpose


	5. Sin with a Grin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Directly after Talk Dirty
> 
> Also a mention of suicide? I don't know if that should be tagged or what? I just want everyone to know there is mentioned suicide and talk of suicide.

**Sin with a Grin**

An Agusta F4 1000 R motorcycle cost about $25,000 brand new, and that’s what Ronan paid for the lightly used one he bought from a kid he knew at school who had used it once and bought a Harley.

It cost about $25,000 to buy it, and about ten bucks or less in gas to wreck it, which was what Ronan planned to do.

It was the same day Gansey had walked in on Ronan and Adam making out mostly naked in Ronan’s bed. It was heading through evening and into night, and Ronan was standing with a group of locals, students mixed with the average Henrietta seventeen or eighteen year old.

A guy leaning against a Ducati licked his lips and snickered. “We gonna take it easy on the Aglionby babies?”

A girl on some type of Japanese bike rolled her eyes. “Oh, shut- _up_ , Luke, and get ready.” She jittered her fingers like an addict, eyes daring around the dirt road where they were standing.

An Aglionby boy, a freshman named _Walter_ , Ronan thought, said through a haze of smoke, “We gonna race or what?”

A thin, short boy made a sort of squeaking noise from under the arm of a taller, broader boy.

The bigger boy patted his shoulder and pulled him a bit closer. “Yeah, we’re gonna race. Cept him. Where’s your entrance fee, Irish?” 

Ronan blinked at him, slowly. He wasn’t in the mood for this. “How much?”

The girl let out a laugh. “ _Golpear su cara fea_ ,” she said in Spanish, snickering. 

“What did you say, Benny?” the guy growled.

Ronan decided that since no one else had understood what she’d said, the advice was meant for him, and executed a perfect right hook to the guy’s jaw.

To his credit, he had moved to block the smaller boy, and only stumbled back a couple steps after the hit. He licked the split in his lip, tasted blood.

“Okay then. Get up there with them,” he said with a negligent shrug. 

The smaller boy’s eyes were enormous.

Ronan went to the Agusta and rolled it by the girl, who bared her teeth at him.

_Gansey is going to kill me,_ he thought giddily, seconds before he thought, _Oh, no he won’t. He already hates me._

The big guy made all of them line up across the dirt road, told them to get ready.

Ronan didn’t have a helmet, so he just straddled the bike, got himself used to the handles.

The girl eyed him and tossed her hair behind her shoulders, straddled her bike.

The other guys took her lead, not one of them bothering with a helmet. Adrenaline started pumping through his system, his palms felt hot and itchy; he revved his bike, his chest nearly heaving as his breath turned to excited pants. 

“Go on,” the huge guy said, hopping onto a Dodge Tomahawk. 

The smallest boy went in front of the motorcycles and said, in a voice as clear and steady as a bell chime, “Ready, GO!”

Ronan heard wild female laughter above all else as they all shot forward. He leaned into the bike, his heart racing as they took the curve together, as his mind wondered what the hell they thought they were doing on a winding road in the near dark. 

The guy next to him sped up and slid to the side in a motion so smooth it almost looked deliberate. As he hit the ground, he covered his head, cursing loudly enough to be heard as the others sped onward.

Ronan wondered when he’d crash. He wanted to hear the screech and crunch of metal. He felt his muscles coil and release at every curve and wondered why he hadn’t already had one of these before.

“Better keep your mind on the road, Aglionbaby, or you’ll end up smeared on it!” the girl shouted, and revved loudly, shooting forward a couple of feet. 

There was a terrific crash and a shriek behind him, as Walter and the big guy collided and flew off the road.

The three of them were left now, Luke, Ronan, and the girl—Benny, he thought, competing for the front even knowing there was no prize for the winner, no glory, nothing except knowing you hadn’t crashed until the last second. 

Luke cursed out loud, over the wind, and pressed or more speed, trying to get ahead of Ronan first, then the girl.

“ _Curve, Luke!_ ” she warned on a bubble of laughter just as he shot past her and crashed, not quite making the curve.

Ronan sped up, leaning so far forward he wondered idly if he’d fly forward and get run over.

The girl shot a glance, then two, then a third at him as he caught up. She let out a wild yell and cut across him, nearly knocking him off the road.

Challenged, Ronan sped up and swerved around her, making her howl with laughter even when she nearly crashed.

_She’s got to be high,_ he thought, his heart in his throat. 

A grin was stretched over his face, painfully wide, his lips stinging. He could almost forget what they’d felt like after Adam had kissed him.

He pushed forward, intent on weaving in front of the girl—except she’d started to weave in front of him.

The crash was deafening. He felt his shoulder bang against her cheek, felt something crunch under his elbow as they flew off their bikes.

“Ronan!” The voice was faint but frantic, and a chill danced over Ronan’s skin just before he and the girl crashed into the ground, perhaps softer than they might have if Noah hadn’t have wrapped himself around them, taking the brunt of the fall before disappearing abruptly. 

“Holy _shit_ ,” the girl said in a congested sort of voice. “ _Holy shit,_ ” she repeated. “You broke my damn nose,” she gurgled, shoving at him until he managed, dizzily, to roll off of her. 

He glanced over and saw that her face was smeared with blood like a nightmare, her hair snared up around her head. She was grinning and tears ran down her face unchecked, probably from the nose injury. Her cheek was cut open to where Ronan’s shoulder had hit her. 

He felt blood seeping from a gash across his forehead, and his body started to feel achy, like he’d twisted his spine or something before crashing into the ground. His ribs throbbed, but mostly he felt alive. 

He blinked because his vision was blurry, blinked again to locate their bikes. 

The girl’s was on top of his, smoking and the wheels spinning wildly.

“Damn,” she whispered, swiping at her mouth to wipe away some of the blood. She turned her head and spat, a big glob of blood spattering the ground. “You gonna want to take the remains of yours, or are they free game now that they’re wrecked?” she asked, stretching out her legs and rotating her ankles, patting her knees. Checking for injuries. 

“Don’t want it,” Ronan grunted, starting to shove up from the ground. His head throbbed and his vision wavered, but he struggled up anyway.

“Hey, come on, man, help me up,” she groaned, holding her blood-streaked hand up. 

Ronan curled his lip and hauled her up, backing away once she was standing.

Her nose did look awful and painful. 

She touched it lightly. “Well,” she sighed, “it’s not like it’s the first time. You want some whiskey?” 

He frowned at her. 

She pointed at her bike. “The side where I had the flask isn’t crushed,” she said, and ambled over to it, opening up a panel of the bike that had obviously been added on, pulling out a liter sized flask.

“Where the hell did you get that?” he blurted, almost impressed.

She bared her teeth and took a gulp, then held it out to him. 

 

They finished it with the abandon of idiots, and staggered off on their own paths; Benny went to find her friends, the ones that had crashed, and Ronan staggered off to look for anyone, feeling fondly toward Benny and her flask of what tasted like Tennessee Honey. 

“Gansey is looking for you,” Noah said, touching his cold fingers to Ronan’s elbow until Ronan started to feel a little cold himself. 

“Why would he be doing that?” Ronan asked sweetly. He felt fondly toward Noah, too, and put his arm around his shoulders, felt him twitch. “Why were you here?” 

“I followed you,” Noah admitted. 

“ Good friend. I coulda died, I guess,” he said with the pondering peace of the drunk. 

“You guess right,” Noah said with a sigh. “Adam is looking for you, too.”

Ronan dropped his arm and put space between them before he said, “Don’t care.”

“Yes, you do,” Noah said calmly. “Or else you wouldn’t be drunk.”

“You’re spooky at night, you know that? You’re all glitter and kittens in the day time but at night you turn into a spirit or whatever. Like a normal one.”

Noah let out a little groan that made Ronan scowl at him. 

“Where’re we goin’?” he asked, letting out a huff when he tripped over something. 

“We’re almost there,” Noah said, and then, “If I were a spook from a movie, I’d have led you to your death already, you know that?”

Ronan smiled blearily. “I guess so,” he admitted with a pleasant little hum. 

He stopped when he rounded a curve and found himself staring at the Pig.

He bared his teeth. Fucking ghost. 

“Ronan!” Gansey called, jumping up from where he was sitting on the hood. Once he was on his feet, though, he didn’t look at all sure about what to do with himself. “Are you alright? You’re bleeding,” he added in a gruff sort of voice.

Ronan swiped at the side of his head absently. “Yeah, had a little accident.”

Gansey’s face twitched. “Your car is back at Monmouth,” he pointed out. 

Ronan grinned widely, felt drying blood crack on his cheek. “Yeah, I know. Wasn’t driving a car.”

“Jesus, Ronan, what’d you get into now?”

“Adam’s pants, almost,” he spat, feeling petulant. 

Gansey’s face went brilliantly red. “Ah…” He shuffled his feet, put his hands in his pockets. “I don’t know what to say,” he said with a sigh.

“What is there to say? Are you going to _forbid_ me from seeing Adam?”

Gansey’s head snapped up. “What? _What?_ No! Christ, Ronan.”

Ronan shrugged one shoulder, tipping his head toward it and quirking an eyebrow all in one slightly off-kilter motion that nearly topped him to the ground. “You seemed pretty fucking peeved, Gansey.”

“I was embarrassed, and I would have been embarrassed if I’d walked in on—on anyone in that position!”

“You mean anyone like Adam and Blue?” Ronan pressed, because maybe if he dug the knife a little deeper, it’d finally have Gansey spewing real emotions.

Gansey’s face went carefully blank. “I mean anyone with anyone. It was awkward, and I didn’t mean to walk in on anything. I didn’t mean to interrupt. As long as you and Adam are both okay with everything you do, as long as you’re both happy, then I’m okay with it.” 

Ronan blinked at him. His sluggish, whiskey-logged brain couldn’t quite comprehend what was being said. “You’re…”

Gansey shrugged. “When have I ever poked my nose into your romantic interests?”

Ronan tried to think of a time when Gansey had asked him anything about dating or girls or _anything_. He couldn’t. He knew in the late hours of the night, sometimes the early hours of the morning, they would talk frankly about some things, like Declan’s parade of girls and how Ronan didn’t understand how he could do that, how they were enough for him, and Gansey mentioning that he was a lower life form and a necessary evil. 

Gansey had spoken of girls at some point, too, or he commented on them, their smiles or their curves or something, but Ronan hadn’t been paying much attention. 

“Never,” Ronan finally answered, swiping his hand over his mouth. “But this is Adam.”

“And this is _you_ , we’re talking about you, not Adam.” 

Ronan’s heartbeat was wild in his chest. “What is there to talk about?”

Gansey squinted at him in the dark. “I guess nothing. I mean. Nothing.”

Ronan let out a tired sigh, ran his hands over his face. “Whatever you want to ask, you should just spit it out.” He recalled saying that to Blue and wondered why it was easier to talk to her about this than his own best friend. 

“I just wondered how long you and Adam had been…together.” 

Ronan gnawed on his lip for a long moment. “Not long. Couple weeks, I guess. It’s hard to figure. Because we haven’t said anything about _together_. More like just jumping each other when we get the chance, if you know what I mean.”

Gansey nodded sagely. “Have you talked to Adam about it?” He pursed his lips for a moment. “And, ah, what _about_ Adam and, um, Blue? I know they…” he trailed off and realization dawned on his face. Then he grimaced deeply, almost like he was in pain. “Are you drunk?” he asked quickly, before Ronan could decipher whether he was in pain or not.

Ronan thought for a moment, holding his foot out from his body. “Yeah,” he said in a somewhat gravelly voice. “Yep, pretty drunk. Saturated. This girl, back there, she was on a fuckin’ Japanese bike and she tore the road _apart_ , and she crashed into me, or maybe I crashed into her, and she had flask the size of a fucking cat full of Tennessee Honey.” 

Gansey looked mildly disturbed. “You were racing…bikes?”

Ronan smiled indulgently. “You fucking weirdo. Motorcycles, you alien.” 

“Oh, I see.” Gansey opened the passenger door of the Pig. “Well, pour yourself in. We can go get breakfast at the Waffle House before we go home.”

“She lit a cigarette after finishing the flask, Gansey,” Ronan said brightly. “And walked away. I smashed her fucking nose with my elbow and she walked away like it was nothing.”

“Sounds like you’ve got a sister in the world,” Gansey mumbled, propping him into the car. 

Ronan let out a weak laugh. “Wouldn’t that be bullshit?” he asked with a chuckle, swinging his legs into the car helpfully. Once Gansey had slammed the door, he fumbled with his seatbelt, let his head lull back against the seat. His throat seized up; he wasn’t going to puke, but he felt strange. 

“We’re going to have coffee before we go home.”

Ronan shrugged. “S’not like I was gonna sleep tonight anyway.” 

Gansey looked at him, his brows pinched together, worrying his bottom lip with his fingers. “Why did you go and crash a motorcycle?” he asked softly.

Ronan shrugged again, letting his head slump against his own shoulder. “I don’t know, man, it seemed like a good idea at the time. You stormed out, Adam wanted to lie to you about what was going on, and the only one I had on my side was the midget from hell.”

Gansey straightened. “Adam was going to _lie_ to me about what I saw,” he repeated, looking outraged.

Ronan smiled drowsily. “Yeah, you and Blue reacted the same way. Seemed pretty simple to me. Adam didn’t want you t’know that he and I were kissing, so I was going to…I guess I was…” It dawned on him that he’d offered to _lie to Gansey_ for Adam Parrish. His chest expanded once and fell with his deep, sharp breath. 

Gansey watched him with half-mast eyes, worry reflecting all across his face. “We’re going to get you coffee right now. It’s hard to talk to you like this.”

“You’re the only one who thinks so,” Ronan mumbled, letting his chin hit his chest.

“That’s because I’m the only one who cares that you might say something you don’t want to when you’re like this.”

That had Ronan blinking hard, crossing his arms around his stomach. 

 

The Waffle House was mostly empty, and it was then that Ronan realized it was around twelve fifteen. How long had it taken him to drink that flask with Benny and then walk to Gansey? 

Gansey ordered a couple of coffees from the waitress, Laurel, and slid into the booth across from Ronan. He steepled his fingers and sighed deeply. 

“Here you go. Are you ready to order yet, or do ya’ll need a minute?” Laurel asked, smiling sweetly. 

Gansey asked for a moment, sliding Ronan’s coffee closer to his elbow. “Noah said you were going to do something stupid.” He tilted his head to look at the bleeding side of Ronan’s head, which, he realized abruptly, none of the Waffle House staff had even blinked at.

He let out a snorting laugh. “I guess when you work the night shift here you have already seen some serious shit.”

“You have no idea,” Laurel said as she came back. “Ready to order?” she asked brightly. 

“Yes, I’ll have the All-Star breakfast, toast, no hashbrowns, eggs over medium,” Gansey said negligently, but he smiled at Laurel and thanked her.

“And you?” she asked, cocking her head toward Ronan, who swallowed a bit of his coffee before answering.

“Cheeseburger and some fries,” he grunted, and took another drink.

Laurel kept her bright smile in place. “You got it. How do you want your burger cooked?”

“Well done,” Gansey put in quickly. “Thank you, Laurel.”

“You’re welcome. Do you need anything else, some Pamprin, a first aid kit?” she offered cheerfully.

Ronan shot a glare toward her, and Gansey accepted the offer of the first aid kit.

She brought the kit first while their food cooked, and some crayons for Ronan, offering a cheeky grin before walking off to help another set of customers.

“Your eyes are a little clearer. How hard did you hit your head and did it occur to you that you may be concussed before drinking?”

Ronan stared into the mug between his palms. “Ah, no.” He sighed. “For fuck’s sake, Gansey, I barely hit the ground. Between Noah and Benny, I was the safest one. I just cracked my head against the ground once.”

Gansey lifted his hands, palms up. “Noah and Benny?”

“The girl, I kind of squashed her. And Noah put himself under us so that when we crashed, we didn’t die.” He sat back in the booth to ponder that, to ponder how close he’d been to death. It was actually an unpleasant thought. 

Gansey looked pale in the face. “If Noah hadn’t have done that, you’d be dead right now. I’d be looking for your _body_ all night, Ronan.” He twisted his mouth, eyes narrowing a little with the motion, eyebrows pinching together again. “All that because I interrupted you and Adam today?” 

Ronan spread his palms against the slightly sticky surface of the table. “I thought,” he said very slowly, “that you hated me, and that Adam was ashamed of me. And I didn’t plan on dying,” he clarified, so that Gansey wouldn’t get that _look_ on his face, that stressed look that hurt Ronan’s stomach. “I just wanted…I wanted to break something.” His hands curled into fists. “I just can’t get anyone to—No one fucking _gets it _. If I don’t break something—if I can’t get it out—what do I do with it?” he shook his head. “I don’t know. I don’t know what happens when I keep it in.”__

__“There are ways to get it out _without suicide attempts_ ,” Gansey insisted._ _

__“I wasn’t trying to kill myself,” Ronan snapped, flipping open the first aid kit and ripping open an alcohol swab with his teeth, smeared it against the gash on his skull._ _

__“You did a _damn fine impression,_ ” Gansey snapped back, finally. He leaned back in his side of the booth, let out a breath and scrubbed his hands over his face. “I wanted to ask you about Adam, actually. And Blue.”_ _

___Jesus Christ_ , Ronan thought, crushing the wrapper of the alcohol-wipe in his fist. “What.” _ _

__Gansey put his hand around his mug, took a drink, set it down, fiddled with his silverware. “I just wanted to ask, or to be sure, maybe, that…um, that Adam wasn’t…” Gansey let out a deep breath. “Christ, talking about this stuff is hard.”_ _

___You aren’t my parent, Gansey,_ Ronan wanted to snap. He wanted to say that he needed a friend, not a parental guardian. Except that wasn’t really true, was it? It second nature to Gansey to parent Ronan now because he had been doing it for some time when necessary. Ronan had no right to get angry about it now that he noticed it._ _

__“Just spit it out, man. We’ve got nothing much to lose at this point.”_ _

__“Oh, fine,” Gansey seethed, flicking a torn piece of napkin off the table. “I wanted to ask or be sure or whatever that Adam wasn’t with you to get back at Blue for not wanting to kiss him,” he spat, and tore the rest of the napkin to pieces._ _

__Ronan considered the statement. A part of him wondered at it, worried about it, but most of him was drunk and caffeinated and wanted to smile a little bit. Gansey was worried about him, he wasn’t mad at him, he wasn’t disgusted. Okay. He could deal with this._ _

__“He really goes all out for the sake of revenge if that is his intention,” Ronan said offhandedly._ _

__Gansey went red. “Oh, god.”_ _

__Ronan grinned, enjoying himself. “Yeah, I don’t know though. Maybe he’s just a really good actor, you know? I mean, it’d have to be acting, not lying. I think lying has a tongue-limit. Or, like, a touching limit. Something like if you’re going to lie, okay, that’s fine, but maybe keep your hands above the belt.”_ _

__“Oh my god,” Gansey groaned, covering his face._ _

__“You’re right, he could be thinking about Blue when his pants get just a little too-“_ _

__“No, no, no stop!” Gansey begged, just as Laurel brought their food over._ _

__“Don’t mind me,” she said without the bat of a lash. “Go ahead and finish, sugar,” she said with a heartfelt wink toward Ronan, who was to say the least amused._ _

__Gansey just looked appalled and mortified._ _

__Ronan took a big bite of his burger, grinning at Gansey. “But, you know, thanks for worrying.”_ _

__“I will never, ever, ever, _ever_ open your door without knocking first,” Gansey vowed, heartfelt and intense. _ _

__Ronan frowned at his fries. The grease was making him nauseous. “Good. I warned you before, but now you’ve learned.” He smirked, but it faded slowly. He wondered where Adam was._ _

__Gansey shifted in his seat, straightening and patting a bit of butter on his waffle. “Where did you even get a motorcycle?”_ _

__“Rob Hensen sold it to me for twenty-five grand.”_ _

__Gansey nodded, took a bite, and grimaced. “That’s the sort of thing Adam would hate the both of us for.”_ _

__“What?”_ _

__“The fact that you bought a motorcycle for twenty-five thousand dollars just to wreck it, and that I just nodded at the price.” He pressed his fork hard into the side of his plate. “Blue would be disgusted, too.”_ _

__Ronan shrugged. “The money’s there. Might as well use it.”_ _

__Gansey let out a little sigh. “I didn’t go back to Monmouth. Was Adam still there when you left?”_ _

__“He had homework,” Ronan said, baring his teeth. “I had to get out so I told Blue to tell him I was leaving.”_ _

__“Blue was still there?” Gansey asked with a weird look on his face._ _

___What is with everyone and this girl?_ Ronan thought, tired. “Yeah, she was still there. She was pissed about Adam, so she wanted to talk to him anyway.” He remembered her tossing him the concrete that he’d flung, her getting angry on his behalf, her squeezing his wrist for a split second._ _

__Maybe he was in that _everyone,_ too, just a little. _ _

__“Oh. Right. We should get back there soon then. I’m sure she’s already gone home by now,” Gansey added under his breath._ _

__“Probably. She’s walked over before a couple times. I gave her a ride home the second time,” Ronan mused, taking another cautious bite of his burger. His stomach heaved and lurched threateningly, so he set it down again and forced himself to swallow the bite he had in his mouth._ _

__“You did?” Gansey asked, surprised._ _

__“She brought over pie and a sandwich,” Ronan said flatly. “I gave her a ride, she asked why I was all muddy, I told her that Adam and I were at Cabeswater.”_ _

__“I didn’t ask for details, Ronan, you don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.” Gansey furrowed his brows. “But you were at Cabeswater?”_ _

__The corners of Ronan’s mouth curled up. “We were.”_ _

__Gansey’s cheeks flushed again. “Ah. Okay. Right.”_ _

__The fact that Gansey hadn’t asked what they were doing sobered Ronan better than the coffee had. Gansey _always_ asked. _ _

__Ronan swallowed thickly. “We should probably go back to Monmouth,” he mumbled._ _

__Gansey took a bite of his waffle. “I doubt that rushing back is going to help anything, and I think you’ll want to be a little more sober before we get there.”_ _

__“I…guess.” Ronan pushed his plate away. “I can’t eat anymore.”_ _

__“I’m surprised you ate any,” Gansey admitted. “The way you smell, I’d have expected you to already have puked a couple times.” He looked mildly gray-faced at the idea of it and Ronan wondered at Gansey being mild the whole night._ _

__“I wouldn’t do that to your delicate stomach, man.” He rolled his eyes. “Wanna leave now though.”_ _

__“Yeah, me too.” Gansey stood and dropped a slightly overlarge tip on the table before going to the register to pay the bill._ _

__Ronan met him at the door, sagging against the frame until Gansey’s hand wrapped around his upper arm, tugging him insistently out._ _

__“Thanks, boys! Come back some time!” Laurel called gleefully as she cleared their table with apparent skill._ _

__“We will. Thank you,” Gansey said, yanking Ronan out._ _

__The trip back to Monmouth was a mostly silent one. At some point Ronan stuck his whole torso out the window to relieve his stomach of some of the whiskey he’d had._ _

__The music in the Pig turned up._ _

__Blue was sitting in front of the door when they got there, her knees tucked up under her chin, tracing patterns in the dirt._ _

__Ronan was disoriented by the sight of her._ _

__She looked up and jumped to her feet. “You found him?” she asked, directing her question at Ronan. “I wanted to wait until you got back before I left.” She just shrugged when he stared at her._ _

__The unspoken “to make sure you were okay” was what made Ronan, at least the drunk Ronan, offer her an overbright smile._ _

__“Thanks.”_ _

__Her eyes grew comically wide. “Is he drunk?” she asked Gansey, blinking rapidly._ _

__“Yes,” he said with flourish as he exited the Pig. “Fantastically so, if I were to guess.”_ _

__“He’s bleeding,” she observed almost curiously._ _

__“That too.”_ _

__“Well, um, I should get home.” She waved awkwardly and started walking._ _

__Noah slipped past them from where he’d been waiting by the door, unnoticed, to walk with her._ _

__Their hands clasped together, and if Ronan wasn’t mistaken, Noah’s form grew just a little more defined. Right. Battery. The table with the plug at Starbucks. Of course._ _

__They headed up, with much laughter from Ronan as he struggled with the steps. The first thing he saw when they got the door open was Chainsaw shredding a sheet of blank computer paper on top of the pool table, and behind her, on the couch, was Adam, elbows on his knees, his hair all twisted up and weird._ _

__Ronan made a noise at Chainsaw that she understood, because she fluttered over to him and settled on his shoulder. Possibly not the safest place to be when he was in danger of tipping over, but he pressed his cheek against her wing anyway._ _

__“You’re back! You’re _bleeding,_ ” Adam added, grimacing. His eyes skirted over Gansey for a half second before taking a careful step forward._ _

__“You should’ve gone home,” Ronan said in what he thought was a perfectly stable voice. No slurring, anyway._ _

__“I was waiting—and Blue and I talked.” He put his hands at his sides, looking toward Gansey again, almost nervously._ _

__Gansey, for his part, had stepped back, distancing himself, picking up the torn paper from his pool table._ _

__“Okay.” Ronan knew his voice was petulant; he blamed it on the whiskey. Or the cut on his head. The crash. Whatever._ _

__“She had a point,” he mumbled, stepping cautiously closer to Ronan. “I wanted to wait for you…both to get back, anyway.”_ _

__“I’m going to give Blue a ride,” Gansey announced, trying to slip by._ _

__To their surprise, Adam was the one to throw his arm out, smacking his palm against the doorjamb and blocking Gansey’s exit._ _

__“Just wait a second,” he said through his teeth, and Ronan was fascinated, because Adam’s eyes looked full black for a moment, in the dark._ _

__He blinked, and it was gone, back to their normal color._ _

__Gansey stepped back, crossing his arms over his chest. He leaned a hip against the pool table and waited._ _

__“Thanks,” Adam muttered. He looked back at Ronan. “I…I’m not—it wasn’t that…” He let out a frustrated sigh._ _

__“It doesn’t matter,” Ronan said finally._ _

__Adam swallowed, his face slowly losing color. “Okay,” he said in a small voice._ _

__Ronan started to walk past him, keeping his gaze hard and straight ahead. He was surprised to find Adam gripping his forearm tightly, pressing in hard enough to bruise._ _

__“It does,” Adam said calmly, “actually.”_ _

__His voice was different, just slightly._ _

__Ronan shrugged him off, but Adam grabbed his shoulder then, and turned him forcefully; before Ronan could swear at him, he was being yanked down, their foreheads banging into each other before Adam managed to catch Ronan’s lips, mostly with his teeth, to be honest, before they were kissing. Ronan blinked at him, frozen with shock for a moment, before he sighed, defeated, and returned the kiss, curling his tongue with Adam’s and letting his eyes drift shut._ _

__Chainsaw ruffled her feathers and drifted to the pool table again, tearing apart the fresh sheet of paper Gansey had put down._ _

__Adam fell back on his feet again, looking up at Ronan with half-lidded eyes and swollen red lips. “It does matter. Doesn’t it?” he asked, looking over his shoulder at Gansey._ _

__“If it matters to you two.” He shrugged, his gaze averted, cheeks flushed. “I just wanted to give you guys some privacy to talk,” he muttered._ _

__Adam blinked. “Oh.”_ _

__“I don’t know where you guys got it into your heads that I was invested in your love lives, but I’m not.” He rolled his shoulders, let his arms fall to his sides. “Just please stop trying to kill yourself with motorcycles.”_ _

__" _What?_ ”_ _

__“I’m going to see if Blue and Noah need a ride,” Gansey announced, slipping out the door before Adam could stop him again._ _

__The look he turned on him was unimpressed. “You’re so dramatic,” he said with a sigh._ _

__Ronan jerked his chin up, defensive. “I was racing. It’s not my fault the fucking bike slid into another one.”_ _

__Adam pressed the heel of his to his forehead for a moment. “You should put band aids on your hands, they’re going to get infected,” he mumbled._ _

__Ronan gestured at him sarcastically, flopping onto the couch. And he let Adam carefully clean and bandage his little scrapes, let him check over the bruises. He stayed quiet and may have drifted off._ _

__Adam looked at him, sighing and arranging him until he was laying horizontally—maybe a little lopsided—on the couch. Gansey didn’t have things like throw blankets, so Adam just considered taking his shoes off for him, shrugged and sat down at the foot of the couch, exhausted._ _

__He thought about what Blue had said to him about the way Ronan’s face had been whiter than bone when he’d gone outside by her._ _

__He thought about the stupid gash on the side of Ronan’s head._ _

__He got up and nudged Ronan until he was on his feet, mumbling and stinking of whiskey, and dragged him to Ronan’s room, letting him flop on the bed. Then he kicked off his own shoes and crawled in with him._ _

__Ronan sensed him and moved closer._ _

__Chainsaw was on her perch, watching. Adam turned his head into Ronan’s shoulder; Chainsaw tucked her head under her wing._ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> She said /hit him in his ugly face/ just so you know if you wanted to know. If not, well. There it is anyway. Sorry if it's a shitty translation, but my grandmother said that's what I should use if that's what I meant. She speaks Spanish well enough. 
> 
> She is Hispanic.
> 
> This was not information you needed.
> 
> It's past midnight.
> 
> I apologize.


	6. Come on Get Higher

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ummmmmm, should I warn for aggressive Adam and dick touching? It doesn't explicitly say dick touching, but it's, um, vaguely implied///they touch each other.

**Come On Get Higher**

Ronan woke slowly, bit by bit. The first thing he felt was a throbbing in his left foot, as if he’d been stepped on rather hard. Possibly by a heeled shoe. The next was his upper left thigh and hip, aching and pulsating. His spine felt twisted and sore, his left shoulder bruised, and his head…well, he wasn’t sure which was worse, the throbbing on the inside, like it might roll away at the wrong movement, or the searing hot gash on the side of his skull that he was sure was bleeding on his pillow.

He blinked blearily and let out a snarl of a yawn, felt something tickle his chin. He shifted his blurry gaze down and was overall amazed to find tufts of light brown hair tucked close to his chest, fingers curled in his shirt. Adam was curled in close, a tight ball of uncertain affection. 

Ronan let out a slow, tired breath and pressed his face down closer to Adam’s head and let himself drift back into a doze.

 

He dreamed of the day Gansey had introduced Adam to Ronan, that look on his face like he wasn’t quite sure of how Ronan would react to this change in dynamics. It had been just after Niall had been killed, just before the first nightmare had torn Ronan to shreds.

>   
> _Ronan looked the boy up and down, mouth curling into a sneer. Gansey said his name was Adam Parrish but he looked like a boy-sized representation of the horseman of Famine, hollowed cheeks and dry lips and brown eyes that had long-since lost their shine, if they’d ever had any. His lashes brushed his cheeks when he looked down, as if he was unable to hold Ronan’s gaze. His school uniform didn’t fit him the way everyone else’s did, and his pale, long fingered hands were stained black in places by engine grease._
> 
> _Gansey saw him looking._
> 
> _“Adam,” he said grandly, “was showing me how to fix the Pig.”_
> 
> _“Did he tell you to take it to the junk yard?” Ronan shot back without missing a beat._
> 
> _Adam looked delicately scandalized while Gansey just frowned._
> 
> _“No, he did not. He told me it was the transmission…”_
> 
> _“And that you needed the engine cleaned,” Adam mumbled._
> 
> _“And that,” Gansey agreed. “Ronan, Adam is entering our Latin class this semester,” he said with enthusiasm._
> 
> _Ronan wanted to ask why he should care, but instead he just continued to look at Adam._
> 
> _Adam, who was looking less shy and small and more annoyed. He obviously didn’t enjoy the scrutiny. He turned his head and used his shoulder to rub his cheek and Ronan saw the edges of a bruise on his collarbone._
> 
> _Finally, Adam snapped, “What are you staring at?”_
> 
> _Ronan laughed, loud and harsh, judgmental. It was his way of saying_ Not you _without speaking._
> 
> _Gansey gave him a disapproving look but didn’t say a word, because Ganseys did not have to use their words when their delicately furrowed brows, their prettily down-turned mouths, and their wide, how-could-you brown eyes could say so much more than their many words ever could._
> 
> _“I was just telling Adam the legend of Glendower,” Gansey said cautiously._
> 
> _“Were you,” Ronan said flatly. He looked beyond Adam toward the Pig. He didn’t care who Gansey told about Glendower._
> 
> _“Yes,” Gansey said eagerly. “He’s read it somewhere, and I was telling him about the ley lines.”_
> 
> _Ronan looked at Adam Parrish and saw the interest deep in his eyes, a sort of hunger. It was different than the desperation Gansey had when_ he _wanted Glendower, when it was an ache in his chest that kept him up at night. The look in Adam’s eyes was more basic, the desperation more animal. Like a half-starved fox deciding whether it should risk stealing food from suburban trash cans, risk the wrath of the humans there._
> 
> _It made him like Adam a little more, slightly past his physical appearance. He also felt the unexpected urge to start a fight with him, but that could have just been his “deep-seated anger and the need to get back at everyone for existing”, in Gansey’s elegant 2 AM psychology words._
> 
> _Adam narrowed his eyes slightly, turned his head to face Gansey. “I should go,” he muttered, shifting his feet like he was going to turn and leave._
> 
> _“I can give you a ride home,” Gansey said quickly. “I’ll see you at Monmouth, Ronan.”_
> 
> _It bothered him to see Gansey walking away from him with Adam._
> 
> _It was not a pleasant image, but it was the second clearest one he kept with him about that first meeting with Adam._
> 
> _The first clearest was Adam’s eyes just before Ronan had annoyed him, wide and searching._   
> 

Ronan woke up to the feeling of a mouth on his own, warm and soft and inviting. He blinked his blurry eyes, could do no more than roll with it when Adam turned them over. His hair was stuck up all over the place, his body was warm, and they were under Ronan’s blanket.

Adam pressed his knee between Ronan’s legs, shifted closer so he could open Ronan’s lips with his mouth, glide his tongue over his teeth and curl invitingly.

Startled, Ronan allowed Adam to do whatever it was he was trying to do, barely flinched when his hands slid under Ronan’s shirt and felt his ribs carefully, his dexterous fingers probing and stroking. Adam shifted his mouth down a little, sank his teeth gently into Ronan’s bottom lip, tugged a bit, closed his mouth around his lip, sucked, dipped his head down to press open-mouthed, slow kisses to Ronan’s neck. Ronan closed his eyes, sighing.

His hands slid lower, stroked Ronan’s hips, slid under the loosened waistband of his jeans and pressed hard into the warm flesh he found on the sides of Ronan’s thighs. 

Ronan’s eyes flew open and he gasped, fisting his hands in the sheet beneath him to hold himself still.

Adam met his gaze with half-lidded eyes, lips bright red and wet, curling into a lazy smile. He slid his left hand down until he could tug Ronan’s right knee up, pressed it against his own hip. “Good morning,” he rasped in a way that made Ronan’s hips jerk a little, made him press up against Adam. 

“I don’t think it’s morning,” Ronan whispered back, because the room was very dark. He knew it was just his black out curtains. He wasn’t willing to get out of bed.

Adam lifted his eyebrows, then shrugged just a little and slid back up until he could kiss Ronan again, a slow, slightly sloppy and wet kiss that was never, ever, ever going to leave Ronan’s imagination. Ever. 

“Take your shirt off,” Adam breathed, running his nose along the line of Ronan’s jaw, down the side of his neck. They were rocking against each other gently, barely registering the movement. 

Ronan shifted until he could pull one arm through his shirt, then the other, struggling to get it over his head without breaking contact with Adam. He wasn’t quite sure what had brought out this particular side of Adam’s personality, but he liked it. 

Adam shucked his own shirt off, too, leaning down so their chests and bellies pressed together, hot and soft and utterly destructive, the way Adam’s stomach muscles pulled and tightened as he moved gently against Ronan. His fingers traced down Ronan’s hips, across his lower stomach and then down, fumbling slightly with the zipper of his jeans. The button was already undone. 

Ronan caught his own lip between his teeth when Adam curiously pressed his palm down hard against him, almost like he wanted to see how Ronan would react. He pressed his head back against the pillow, trying to hold still, his stomach clenching hard. 

“Sorry,” Adam whispered, pulling his hand away. “I’ve never done anything like this before.”

_I know that,_ Ronan thought, but he didn’t say it, wasn’t sure if his tongue was untangled enough to actually form words. “Me either,” he finally managed. 

For all their groping and making out, they’d never _really_ touched each other. 

Ronan curled his hand around the back of Adam’s neck, brought their mouths together again.

Adam dropped his weight on Ronan once more, shifting his hips against Ronan’s purposefully, grinding down hard when Ronan let out a broken moan of surprise and pleasure. 

For someone with zero experience, he seemed to follow his instincts pretty fucking well. 

Adam slid down a little, trailed his tongue and lips over Ronan’s chest and stomach, nipped his way back up. He tipped his head, eyes on Ronan’s, and then, without very much warning, slid his fingers under Ronan’s boxers and nearly made him shoot off the bed and onto the ceiling like a cartoon cat.

“Is that okay?” Adam asked, sliding his hand further down. His eyes were hazy and distracted, tongue sticking slightly between his teeth in concentration. 

“Yeah,” Ronan panted, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment. 

He jumped a little when Adam’s lips pressed gently against his. 

“Can I just. Can I touch you?”

“You already are,” he choked, trying not to laugh.

“You know what I meant.” 

Ronan nodded, shrugging, though he was careful not to move as Adam’s hand wrapped around him. His eyes very nearly crossed and his breath stuttered out of him. He closed his eyes again, until Adam kissed him again and murmured for him to open his eyes against his mouth. 

His touch was light, barely there, and then it was really gone.

“What-“ Ronan began. His face felt hot, especially when Adam backed off of him, slid down just a little. 

“You gotta take these off,” he said quietly. “Who wears jeans this tight in summer?” he demanded in a whisper, tugging at Ronan’s jeans. “Lift your hips,” he ordered and Ronan did.

He flinched when Adam started to pull his boxers off, and so Adam left them where they were.

Was it stupid that he wasn’t sure how he felt about being completely naked with Adam looking at him, especially with how Adam had been touching him? Maybe. 

“It’s okay,” Adam whispered, his lips pressing against the corners of Ronan’s mouth as he fit their bodies together again. “I don’t want to strip yet, either.” He smiled a little, amused at himself. And then he put his hand directly back into Ronan’s boxers like he couldn’t wait. 

Ronan didn’t flinch this time, but he did let out a broken groan when Adam’s long fingers wrapped around him. He sucked his own bottom lip into his mouth and gnawed on it until Adam used his own teeth to free the wet, abused lip, laughing softly. 

“I want to touch you, too,” Ronan managed, but he couldn’t move his arms, felt paralyzed while Adam barely ghosted his hand up and down Ronan’s length, making him shudder. 

“I know. You can.” Adam watched him from lowered lashes, not shy or coy, just cautious and just sleepy enough to make it unbearable to look at him and not touch. 

Ronan cautiously slid his hand up Adam’s side, caressed the ribs that still stuck out just a little too far, pressed his thumbs into the dips below his hips and heard his breath catch in his throat. 

Adam rubbed his nose against Ronan’s, smiling at him and twisting his wrist, laughing breathlessly when Ronan jerked and choked on a gasp. He pressed his forehead to Ronan’s, eyes closing hard when Ronan’s fingers dipped beneath Adam’s boxers. 

His skin was feverishly hot, and the little noise in the back of his throat that he made killed Ronan, made his stomach muscles tighten dangerously. Adam responded by gasping and pressing in closer, mouthing at Ronan’s neck.

They had both barely moved their hands on each other when Ronan came, then Adam, gripping each other tight and trembling like scared children. 

“How,” Adam gasped, “how did you not come as soon as I _touched_ you?” 

Ronan wondered if Adam had a head wound. It was so strange for him to act like this just one day after being ashamed of what he and Ronan had, of wanting to lie to Gansey about it, wanting to hide it from Blue and Noah. 

“Are you alright?” Ronan finally croaked, his voice hoarse.

Adam’s face went pale. “I’m fine. Are you okay?” he asked nervously. 

“A lot better than I was. I just—what’s gotten into you?” he demanded, moving his hand up to cup Adam’s hip. He liked the way it fit in the palm of his hand, bony and smooth in comparison to the rest of his skin. 

Adam’s eyes flitted away. “I don’t know, I just…had a dream, I guess.” He peeked up. “I had a dream and then you were here so I thought—I thought you’d be okay with it. I asked-“

“I was great with it,” Ronan said adamantly. He was not so great with how sticky he felt, but he would deal with that in a minute. 

 

Adam smiled a tiny smile, leaning back a little so that he could look down at Ronan. He sat up, his knees on either side of Ronan’s waist. “We’re disgusting right now,” he said, staring down at him. 

“Yeah,” Ronan replied, and his tongue was starting to tangle itself again. 

“You’re so pale.” Adam traced his fingers over Ronan’s sides, the dips and valleys of his abdominal muscles and his ribs and hips. “I can see the veins on your chest. You look…”

“What?” Ronan wanted to know. What did he look like in the sharp, watchful eyes of Adam Parrish? 

“Fragile, I guess.”

Ronan snorted out a laugh, thumbed Adam’s cheek with his clean hand. “That’s you,” he barely breathed. 

Adam blinked. “What?”

“You always look so…with your face…you just look delicate, I guess.” Ronan felt his face flushing, which he planned to blame on the head injury.

“You do, too,” Adam said insistently. He tipped his chin down, didn’t look when he said, “I just really like your skin, okay?”

It was a strange admission, from someone like Adam, someone who was not trusting of appearances and could see beneath skin and bone to the person hiding in the body, behind the face. 

Ronan shivered. “Why?” he asked, looking down at his chest. 

“Because I can…” Adam leaned down and pressed his open mouth to Ronan’s ribs on the right side, mouthing and licking and nipping at the skin until Ronan was gasping and flinching, trying not to react the way his body wanted him to—ticklish, apparently—and finally he sat back, looking far too smug at the red mark he’d left.

“That’s not going to go away very soon,” Ronan pointed out.

“I know.” Adam smiled at him shyly. 

“We should shower,” Ronan croaked, because all at once he felt gross and sticky and also he wanted to see what place he could mark up Adam’s skin without hurting him. He wanted to use his mouth. 

“We should,” Adam agreed with a mischievous glint in his eyes that Ronan had never seen before. 

They were finally rolling out of bed when it occurred to Ronan that they hadn’t been interrupted by any of their friends. His hateful phone told him it was 2 pm. It also had a text from Gansey stating that he was exploring Cabeswater for the day. 

They had Monmouth to themselves.


	7. Light 'em Up

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's a fight scene in here--well it's mostly a big fight scene--because Maggie updated her tumblr today to say something along the lines of FIGHT FIGHT FIGHT! and so that inspired me! <3 This was fun to write. Also a teeny bit nsfw? I guess? Idk you judge. Dicks are involved. 
> 
> It's probably obvious I had more fun with the fight scene. Let's just pretend I can write sexy scenes, too.

Adam was a boy who knew pain; he was a boy who knew anger and especially knew to stay out of the way of anger. He tended to avoid the guys at school who had reputations for starting fights in the courtyard, the ones that lost their tempers and flew at each other faster than their parents’ jets could get overseas to punish them.

He was used to Ronan getting into fights; he’d seen him take down guys twice his bulk simply because he had the skills to do it. 

It was a little different after they’d started this…this unnamed _thing_ they had, to see someone’s fist plow into Ronan’s mouth, to see his head snap back with the force of it, to see a smile filled with blood. 

It was even more different when two other guys stripped off their school blazers and joined the fight. Adam swallowed, his heart pounding against his ribs as he watched Ronan’s eyes flit over each one of them, hands curled loosely in front of him, teeth bared, a wolf ready to take down the three of them without stopping to think that he might not be able to. He let out a raucous laugh as he threw himself into the fight.

The circle of onlookers closed around them, and anxiety bit at his lungs. He couldn’t see Ronan anymore. All Adam could hear was the smack and thud of fist hitting flesh, the scuff of shoes on pavement, grunts, and swear words. 

Ronan was more than capable of taking care of himself, to be sure, but he was outnumbered. 

Adam dropped his bag outside the fight circle and shoved his way through, elbowing one freshman until he moved out of the way. 

He got through just in time for Ronan’s head to get slammed down against the pavement by the guy standing above him. One of them was sitting on his legs. Blood seeped from the side of his head, one of his eyes had a nasty looking cut underneath it, but he focused immediately on Adam and bared his teeth again, and it might have been a smile but for the blood.

Adam figured out another thing about himself; pain was necessary when protecting what was yours, and he didn’t mind it then. 

He threw himself at the guy that had slammed Ronan’s head down, swinging his fist without really looking to see where it landed; he was gratified with the sensation of bone cracking under his knuckles.

The guy let out a yowl of pain, hands clamped over his nose as he wheeled backwards. 

The third guy, who Ronan had apparently managed to knock down before the other two had taken him down, grabbed at Adam’s legs and took him to the ground, the back of his head bouncing off the pavement as he landed. The boy crawled up and swung his fist at Adam’s face, a hard blow to the cheek that was going to leave it swollen and bruised.

Adam’s head lulled to the side, momentarily dazed by the punch; the guy sitting on his stomach grabbed his hair and yanked his head back up, getting ready to swing again. Adam slammed his closed fist down on the guy’s balls, lurching up dizzily when he rolled off him to clutch himself. 

A hand wrapped around Adam’s upper arm and he lurched away, just in time to take another fist to the face, this one landing on his mouth, throwing him off balance and into the arms of someone in the crowd; they shoved him back into the fight laughing as blood dripped out of his mouth. 

There seemed to be about five guys fighting Ronan and Adam now. Ronan was methodically planting his fist into the face of the guy who’d popped Adam in the mouth; the guy Adam had nailed in the crotch was still on the ground curled up like a shrimp, and the other three seemed to be rallying.

Adam sensed what was coming a second before it happened, had the instinct to start running and was comically mid-stride when two of the guys grabbed him from behind, holding him in place when their friend slammed his fist into Adam’s solar plexus. He’d have curled up toward the pain if he’d been able to get free of the two holding him. As it was, he just let out a breathless cry of pain, gagging on blood. 

Ronan’s head snapped up like a wolf scenting prey and saw him trapped, snarling as he leaped to his feet and grabbed two of the guys—the one hitting him and one of the guys holding him—by the backs of their necks, as if he could physically remove them at the same time. He didn’t need to. He slammed the bigger guy’s—a senior, probably—face into his knee, turning like to the next guy with a vengeance.

The last guy holding Adam let go and started to swing, but Adam—through sheer luck—had doubled up in pain and it missed his face, clipping his shoulder a bit. He knew they were all shouting or swearing or something, but he was too dizzy and hurt to pay attention. Swallowing bile, he forced himself to straighten up. Something flashed in his vision and he swung his forearm up in time to knock the guy’s punch off track, then reached out and yanked his shirt so that the guy was stumbling toward him. He shoved his palms against his chest, throwing him back while he was still off balance. Then, moving on autopilot—or perhaps on direction from Cabeswater—he turned to face Ronan and the two other guys. 

The one with the broken, bleeding nose had gotten up and was creeping toward Ronan’s back. Adam didn’t stop to think; he simply threw himself onto the boy’s back and wrapped his legs around his waist and leg, anything, slammed his elbow down against his shoulder, dug his fingers into his face until the guy started to wobble, losing his balance as he tried to reach Adam; he managed to grip a fistful of his hair, yanking, but the pain made Adam taste blood and fury. He raked his bitten-ragged fingernails down the side of the boy’s face, jammed his palm against his larynx until he choked.

They went down hard, Adam’s back slamming into the pavement painfully. He scrambled out from under the guy, who stayed down, holding his hands out as he struggled to breathe. 

Adam turned back to Ronan only to find him watching curiously. 

“Anyone else?” Ronan asked around his swollen lip, flicking his tongue over the blood gathering there. He turned a slow circle, looking at all their classmates gathered there. No one stepped forward, so he shrugged and walked stiffly toward Adam, taking his arm and tugging him out of the circle. 

“What—” Adam began, his head spinning. His whole body felt like a bruise. “What about those…?”

“They’ll get off school property if they don’t want to get detention or something.” Ronan ran his hand over his head, catching some of the blood and laughing. He was practically vibrating with energy. 

Adam was still having trouble breathing. “What were you fighting about?”

The smile dropped off of Ronan’s face. “It doesn’t matter, does it?” he asked, swiping blood out from under his nose. He looked positively demonic with the blood smeared all over him, less fragile than he had after he’d crashed the motorcycle. 

They went to Ronan’s car and sat for a moment, both of them catching their breath. It didn’t take long for Ronan to start trembling with that energy again, his muscles bunching up beneath his torn, stained shirt. 

Adam’s chest heaved as he struggled to catch his breath; most of the pain in his stomach had faded, he should have been able to breathe properly again. He turned his head and caught Ronan watching him out of the corner of his eye. 

“What were you guys fighting over?”

Ronan sighed harshly and turned his gaze away. “Andrew had a bad way of phrasing a question,” he said with a cruel curl to his mouth. “We decided to handle it outside instead of in the school. And his friends didn’t like my way of handling his poor word choice.” His eyes narrowed. “And since when do _you_ jump into a fight?”

Adam glared at him. 

“It was kinda hot,” Ronan added thoughtfully, and that was it, that was just _it_. 

Adam was already straddling Ronan’s lap by the time Ronan realized that he’d moved, was already clutching his hands in the shoulders of his uniform shirt, kissing him and ignoring the taste of blood, their swollen lips and cuts. He ground his hips down and left Ronan gasping, hands scrabbling to catch at Adam’s legs, his thighs, his hips, anywhere. 

Adam’s fingers caught at a tear in Ronan’s shirt and slid under, found the hot skin underneath, flicked his tongue over Ronan’s and fumbled to get his hands all the way under the shirt while Ronan grabbed at his uniform pants, trying to hold him still while groaning helplessly.

Adam scraped his nails down Ronan’s stomach and felt him shudder, heard him moan. He jumped when Ronan’s fingers flicked the button of his pants open, his fingers dipping just beneath the waist, sliding around to his lower back, then lower, kneading at his ass. Ronan let out a low, almost pained moan and demanded to know where his stupid boxers were.

“Laundry day,” he panted, squeezing his knees around Ronan’s hips, which were twisting in an effort to get closer. He laughed and leaned down to kiss and nip at Ronan’s throat, at his collarbone. 

“You—you,” Ronan was panting, unable to come up with any other words.

“Take this off,” Adam grunted, yanking at Ronan’s shirt until he leaned up and pulled it off. 

Ronan reached down and hit the button on the side of his seat, until it reclined enough that Adam could sit back and take his own shirt off. Ronan did this lift and twist thing with his hips that made Adam just _ache_ to see while Ronan managed to get his pants down under his hips. 

Adam, his tongue between his teeth, glanced up toward Ronan’s face and let out a little sigh. His bare chest was all scraped up and bruised, as was his face, and for whatever reason, that made Adam just…

He fell forward and kissed Ronan again, fiercely, sliding his hand down to grip his hip, to rub his thumb against the bone until he got up the courage to reach between them, wrap his hand around Ronan’s dick, and squeezed lightly; Ronan arched off the seat, gasping into Adam’s mouth. Adam chuckled, liked the idea of Ronan not quite able to control himself. Adam slid his hand down, adjusted his grip, and tried to focus on kissing Ronan _while_ finding a rhythm that would make him squirm, which wasn’t hard. 

It was somewhat gratifying to realize that what turned Ronan on the most seemed to be Adam in general. 

It didn’t take much longer than last time for Ronan to murmur Adam’s name and go stiff all over, muscles clamping down as he came. 

Adam stroked him through it, felt his own hips moving in an attempt to get some friction, even as Ronan pushed his hand away, panting. Instead of leaving him to it, though, Ronan twisted and shoved Adam down on the seat, cranking it back as far from the wheel as it would go, fighting with the zipper and button of his pants desperately, hands shaking. 

“Ronan-” Adam started, and let out a broken moan when Ronan ran his tongue over Adam’s bellybutton, sliding lower to the opening in his pants, yanking them down over his hips the same way he’d done with his own. 

Ronan nudged Adam’s knee away, opening his legs just a little further and shifting so that he could curl even closer; he was really too tall to fit, and he realized that at the same time Adam did. His half-lidded eyes pinned Adam in place for a long moment, before he gripped Adam’s hips and physically lifted him so his spine hit the backseat, his bare ass on the top half of the seat, and Ronan climbed up between his legs, dipping his head down to lick at his dick, up and down the top.

Adam’s head fell back with a loud thud and a throb of pain from where he’d hit he sidewalk earlier. His fists clenched against his thighs as he panted, trembling. Ronan shot him a feral grin before ducking down and closing his mouth around the head of Adam’s cock, making him moan and squirm, unsure of how to deal with this sensation. 

Ronan didn’t give him long to acclimate before he was moving lower, sucking and using his tongue, making an attempt at taking more of him before he made a little choking noise and pulled back. He gave a little shoulder shrug and brought his hand up to stroke what he couldn’t reach with his mouth. 

Adam’s hips hitched up before he managed to catch himself; Ronan’s throat spasmed as he gagged. Adam grabbed his shoulder and babbled out an apology, trying to find something to hold onto.

Ronan pulled his mouth off, his lips rubbed red, eyes dark, and said, “It’s okay,” in this rasping voice that near killed him. He leaned forward to bite at Adam’s mouth before ducking down again.

It only took one more of those little sucking motions that Ronan was making for Adam to let loose a strangled cry and grip Ronan’s fingers, which had crept their way up to Adam’s hand. 

“S-sorry,” he stammered, trembling. He let out a breathless moan when Ronan swallowed around him before sitting back and gently tucking him back into his pants. 

He fussed with Adam’s pants for a moment, buttoning and zipping them before he did up his own pants and collapsed right on top of him, resting his cheek against Adam’s hip. 

They laid there for probably twenty minutes, catching their breath and holding onto each other. Adam couldn’t seem to stop himself from running his fingers over Ronan’s cheek gently, from the sharp curve of his cheek bone down to his jaw. Ronan had draped one arm over Adam’s waist and pressed his face into his side, eyes closed. 

It took another five minutes for Adam to remember they were in the school parking lot.

As if sensing him starting to freak out, Ronan curled closer, like he could hide himself from Adam’s embarrassment. It _wasn’t_ shame. It was embarrassment at the idea of someone seeing them like this, of someone seeing Ronan curled close like a child seeking comfort, of seeing Adam’s flushed face and chest, his sweaty, mussed hair. 

“So, do you always do that after you get into a fight?” Adam surprised himself by asking. He glanced down toward Ronan, who was staring up at him, stunned.

He cracked a smile. “Usually I go find a drink or something. This is better.”

“Yeah, I thought so too.” Adam wanted to ask him questions, things like _where’s Gansey_ and _What was the fight about_ and, most of all, _Do you want to try again, in your room?_ None of the questions seemed appropriate for the moment, so he kept his mouth shut. 

“You shouldn’t jump into a fight like that,” Ronan said suddenly, startling him. 

“Why?”

Ronan sat up, glowering at him. “Because it wasn’t even your fight.”

Adam considered it for a second. “I know it wasn’t. It wasn’t a fair fight and I didn’t like seeing you get your ass kicked.”

“Didn’t you?” Ronan asked, leering a bit.

“No, I liked seeing you kick _their_ asses,” Adam admitted, “and I’m still not even sure where that came from.” He was a little baffled by his libido’s response to Ronan kicking ass, but that was something to think about later. “What were you fighting them about?”

“Does it really matter?” he asked with a wide grin. “Come on, let’s go back to Monmouth.” He grabbed Adam’s chin and kissed him hard, biting, and retreated to the passenger seat, settling back like he was getting comfortable, stretching his long legs out. 

“You’re going to let me drive the BMW?” He eyed the stick shift warily. He and Ronan had something going here, and he liked it, and he had a feeling that fucking up his car was a good way to destroy that.

“You seem to know how to handle a stick well enough.” And he laughed, buckling his seatbelt. “We’re just going down the street. You’ll get it.” 

“Seriously, I don’t want to fuck up the car.”

“You won’t.”

He wanted to say _I know this was your dad’s car. I know you’re protective of it. Don’t make me ruin this thing between us._ “I don’t think I’m qualified to drive a stick,” he said stiffly.

Ronan shrugged. “You aren’t. _Drive,_ Adam. Just fucking drive. It’ll survive.” 

“ _Why?_ ” he demanded, flexing his hands on the seat. He hadn’t even pulled it up yet.

Ronan wiped blood off of his chin and said, “After all that shit last year, you jumped into a fight and took a fucking fist to the face, so I think you can handle driving a fucking stick shift. Just drive us home.” 

So Adam pulled the seat up and adjusted it and the mirrors, buckling his seat belt and closing his eyes. “If this is you needing a reason to fight with me and end this, can you just say so, that way I don’t ruin your car?”

“Jesus, Adam, just drive.” Ronan leaned back in his seat and looked for all the world like someone about to take a nap.

Adam started the car and prayed to a god he wasn’t even sure he believed in because for some unfathomable reason he was _falling in love with this asshole._


	8. These Boys Don't Trust Happy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "SORRY BUT THEY AREN'T CAPABLE OF BEING THAT HAPPY  
> OR CAREFREE  
> BC WITH THEIR LIVES 'HAPPY' IS NOT AN EMOTION THEY TRUST"
> 
> -nanigrapeseed, tumblr

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to nanigrapeseed on tumblr for inspiring this with her tags on a post that I cannot remember whatsoever at this point!! Thank you for your unintentional inspiration! I've posted this here and on tumblr! 
> 
> I'm not even sure if this fits with all the others but let's hope everyone enjoys it!

Adam blinked his eyes open, staring at a high vaulted ceiling, a soft-as-a-dream blanket tangled around his legs. His abdominal muscles felt sore, pleasantly so, and he couldn’t figure out why until he realized he was smiling and breathing hard.

He sat up slowly.

Everything had that misty, early morning light to it, and he couldn’t make himself focus on details of the room. He saw flashes of color, shapes of furniture out of the corner of his eye, but what he focused on was Ronan, stretched out on his back, grinning widely like he, too, had been laughing.

“Ronan,” Adam began, but he got distracted by the high, giddy sound of his own voice. “Is this-?”

Ronan sat up and nuzzled his face against the side of Adam’s neck. His hands came up and slid across Adam’s belly, up his ribs, pressing in with his fingertips until breathless laughter forced its way out of Adam’s throat. 

Once again, the sound distracted him, drew his attention away from what he’d been doing. Ronan’s lips grazed the side of his throat, up to his jaw, and he let out a winded laugh before brushing their lips together.

Ronan’s eyes looked hazy, almost drugged. “Adam,” he said slowly, and then again, “Adam,” but more sharply. His eyes went wide, and thrilled, turning to blue lasers in his excitement. “You—” He seemed to lose his train of thought and leaned in, bumping their noses together, laughing giddily.

It didn’t sound right. 

Adam realized, with a sluggish stirring of thought, that he’d never heard Ronan laugh like that, not quite that way. Ronan’s laugh were hard, taunting things, or loud, victorious booms—something like the way Adam presumed Niall Lynch had laughed. 

This was neither. It was high and breathless, barely recognizable as something that could have come from Ronan’s body. 

Adam pressed his palms to Ronan’s face. He forgot what he was doing and pressed their mouths together, sweeping his thumbs over Ronan’s cheekbones. His face had never felt so soft or young. Young…Adam jerked his head back, keeping Ronan’s face away. 

“Ronan, something weird is going on,” he slurred.

“So?” Ronan asked, pressing his face against Adam’s hand. “So what?” He shut his hazy eyes.

“So…so we have to…fix it.” Adam wasn’t sure he liked this Ronan, or even this version of himself, even though he kind of felt like so much weight had been lifted off his shoulders that he might just float away.

“I don’t want to,” Ronan mumbled, tipping his head forward so that they were nose-to-nose. He pressed their foreheads together, his eyes half-lidded. 

“Something’s…wrong,” Adam insisted, but he couldn’t figure out what, exactly, it was. 

Ronan pressed a light kiss to his mouth and let out that giddy laugh again, and warmth bloomed under Adam’s breastbone at the sound, made him smile. 

He yanked away from Ronan, pressing his lips closed, fighting off the smile. “Something-”

“I know,” Ronan said softly, closing his eyes all the way. “Something’s wrong.” He let himself slump forward, resting his head against Adam’s thigh. 

Adam set his hand on the back of Ronan’s neck, rubbing his thumb across the base of his skull soothingly while trying to force himself to look around; it didn’t work. All that happened was his head started swimming even more and he couldn’t find any other reason in the world not to lay down beside Ronan.

“I want to go,” Adam said quietly. “I don’t like this. I don’t _like it_.” His voice was rising near the end, his chest starting to heave. He was half curled down beside Ronan, though, like his body wasn’t under his control. He hadn’t felt like this since…

The thought slipped away from him like Jell-o from a hot car hood. He stroked Ronan’s neck and tried to keep himself from drifting away. 

Once his heart had stopped racing, the dizziness retreated a little. Before he could decide against it, he threw himself away from Ronan, toward what he hoped was the edge of the bed.

As soon as his toes grazed the ground, his world got turned upside down.

“Adam,” Ronan gasped, slamming into his back like he’d been running. His chest was heaving, his body burning hot and damp. He pressed his face against Adam’s shoulder.

Adam sucked in a shuddering breath and looked around, his eyes wheeling wildly before he managed to focus on the trees around them. 

_“We have given you a glimpse of his heart, magician,”_ the trees whispered in the back of his brain. _“And you didn’t even stop to enjoy it.”_ And, curiously, _“What gave it away?”_

He didn’t think to answer, couldn’t, not with Ronan panting against his neck and trembling. 

“What was that?” he demanded, freeing himself.

“That wasn’t _me,_ ” Ronan snapped. “I was awake the whole time.” Then his eyes rounded, the way they had in the dream-space, before his face closed up. “I came here to look for _you_ , but as soon as I stepped into the trees, I was…wherever we were.”

Adam’s chin tipped back, sizing him up. “Was that your room at the Barns?”

Ronan’s gaze cut away. “I don’t know. Couldn’t see anything.” 

They were wary now, after that soft space they’d shared, unsure of how to deal with the sharp-edged real-world versions of each other. 

“You knew it wasn’t real right away,” Ronan said finally. “How?”

Adam couldn’t stop himself from making a soft sort of _tsk_ noise with his tongue, which made Ronan’s gaze snap up. “Your voice doesn’t sound like that,” he said, rolling his eyes. 

Ronan let out a short, sharp laugh, and Adam held his hands out in front of him. _That_ was a Ronan Lynch laugh.

Adam jerked his chin, gesturing that they should start walking back toward the cars.

“That was all that gave it away?” Ronan asked carefully, facing forward.

And, well, Adam crowded him up against a tree and yanked him down by a handful of his shirt, kissing him hard enough to feel teeth through their lips, nipping and sucking and licking before he let him go and grabbed his hand.

“ _That’s_ how we kiss,” he said, yanking Ronan along until he started walking.

**Author's Note:**

> I have no idea what to explain.


End file.
